Attack on Strigoi
by the.yaoi.feels
Summary: DONT OWN OVER IMAGE / Dhampir: half human half Moroi / Moroi: "kind" vampire / Stigoi: typical vampire / Eren (Dhampri) and Armin (moroi) have been best friends ever since they were kids. Armin and Eren have a special bond through mind. They ran away from their secret highschool to live among humans. But then they were caught by a very handsome Guardian (Dhampir). RIREN/ ERERI
1. Chapter 1: The Bond

**ATTENTION** : **I do not own** **any** **of this. The plot is from one of my favorite books and I'm just replacing the characters from the book with Attack on Titan characters. The book I am using is called Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead, and this is the first chapter.**

 **Chapter 1: The Bond**

I felt him before I heard his screams.

His nightmare pulsed into me, shaking me out of my own dream, which had had something to do with a beach and some hot guy rubbing suntan oil on me. Images—his, not mine—tumbled through my mind: fire and blood, the smell of smoke, the twisted metal of a car. The pictures wrapped around me, suffocating me, until some rational part of my brain reminded me that this wasn't my dream.

I woke up, strands of chocolate brown hair sticking to my forehead.

Armin lay in his bed, thrashing and screaming. I bolted out of mine, quickly crossing the few feet that separated us.

"Armin" I said, shaking him. "Armin, wake up."

His screams dropped off, replaced by soft whimpers. "Mom, dad" he moaned. "Oh God."

I helped him sit up. "Armin, you aren't there anymore. Wake up."

After a few moments, his eyes fluttered open, and in the dim lighting, I could see a flicker of consciousness start to take over. His frantic breathing slowed, and he leaned into me, resting his head against my shoulder. I put an arm around him and ran a hand over his blonde hair.

"It's okay," I told him gently. "Everything's okay."

"I had that dream."

"Yeah. I know."

We sat like that for several minutes, not saying anything else. When I felt his emotions calm down, I leaned over to the nightstand between our beds and turned on the lamp. It glowed dimly, but neither of us really needed much to see by. Attracted by the light, our housemate's cat, Sebastian, leapt up onto the sill of the open window. He gave me a wide berth—animals don't like dhampirs, for whatever reason—but jumped onto the bed and rubbed his head against Armin, purring softly. Animals didn't have a problem with Moroi, and they all loved Armin in particular. Smiling, Armin scratched Sebastian's chin, and I felt Armin calm further.

"When did we last do a feeding?" I asked, studying his face. His fair skin was paler than usual. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and there was an air of frailty about him. School had been hectic this week, and I couldn't remember the last time I'd given him blood. "It's been like…more than two days, hasn't it? Three? Why didn't you say anything?"

He shrugged and wouldn't meet my eyes. "You were busy. I didn't want to—"

"Screw that," I said, shifting into a better position. No wonder he seemed so weak. Sebastian, not wanting me any closer, leapt down and returned to the window, where he could watch at a safe distance. "Come on. Let's do this."

"Eren—"

"Come on. It'll make you feel better."

I tilted my head and tossed my hair back, baring my neck. I saw him hesitate, but the sight of my neck and what it offered proved too powerful. A hungry expression crossed his face, and his lips parted slightly, exposing the fangs he normally kept hidden while living among humans. Those fangs contrasted oddly with the rest of his features. With his face and blond hair, he looked more like an angel than a vampire.

As his teeth neared my bare skin, I felt my heart race with a mix of fear and anticipation. I always hated feeling the latter, but it was nothing I could help, a weakness I couldn't shake.

His fangs bit into me, hard, and I cried out at the brief flare of pain. Then it faded, replaced by a wonderful, golden joy that spread through my body. It was better than any of the times I'd been drunk or high. Better than sex—or so I imagined, since I'd never done it. It was a blanket of pure, refined pleasure, wrapping me up and promising everything would be right in the world. On and on it went. The chemicals in his saliva triggered an endorphin rush, and I lost track of the world, lost track of who I was.

Then, regretfully, it was over. It had taken less than a minute.

He pulled back, wiping his hand across his lips as he studied me. "You okay?"

"I…yeah." I lay back on the bed, dizzy from the blood loss. "I just need to sleep it off. I'm fine."

His pale, aqua-blue eyes watched me with concern. He stood up. "I'm going to get you something to eat."

My protests came awkwardly to my lips, and he left before I could get out a sentence. The buzz from his bite had lessened as soon as he broke the connection, but some of it still lingered in my veins, and I felt a goofy smile cross my lips. Turning my head, I glanced up at Sebastian, still sitting in the window.

"You don't know what you're missing," I told him.

His attention was on something outside. Hunkering down into a crouch, he puffed out his jet-black fur. His tail started twitching.

My smile faded, and I forced myself to sit up. The world spun, and I waited for it to right itself before trying to stand. When I managed it, the dizziness set in again and this time refused to leave. Still, I felt okay enough to stumble to the window and peer out with Sebastian. Sebastian eyed me warily, scooted over a little, and then returned to whatever had held his attention.

A warm breeze—unseasonably warm for a Portland fall—played with my hair as I leaned out. The street was dark and relatively quiet. It was three in the morning, just about the only time a college campus settled down, at least somewhat. The house in which we'd rented a room for the past eight months sat on a residential street with old, mismatched houses. Across the road, a streetlight flickered, nearly ready to burn out. It still cast enough light for me to make out the shapes of cars and buildings. In our own yard, I could see the silhouettes of trees and bushes.

And a man watching me.

I jerked back in surprise. A figure stood by a tree in the yard, about thirty feet away, where he could easily see through the window. He was close enough that I probably could have thrown something and hit him. He was certainly close enough that he could have seen what Armin and I had just done.

The shadows covered him so well that even with my heightened sight, I couldn't make out any of his features, save for his height. He was short. Really short. He stood there for just a moment, barely discernible, and then stepped back, disappearing into the shadows cast by the trees on the far side of the yard. I was pretty sure I saw someone else move nearby and join him before the blackness swallowed them both.

Whoever these figures were, Sebastian didn't like them. Not counting me, he usually got along with most people, growing upset only when someone posed an immediate danger. The guy outside hadn't done anything threatening to Sebastian, but the cat had sensed something, something that put him on edge.

Something similar to what he always sensed in me.

Icy fear raced through me, almost—but not quite—eradicating the lovely bliss of Armin's bite. Backing up from the window, I jerked on a pair of jeans that I found on the floor, nearly falling over in the process. Once they were on, I grabbed my coat and Armin's, along with our wallets. Shoving my feet into the first shoes I saw, I headed out the door.

Downstairs, I found Armin in the cramped kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator. One of our housemates, Mike, sat at the table, hand on his forehead as he stared sadly at a calculus book. Armin regarded me with surprise.

"You shouldn't be up."

"We have to go. Now."

His eyes widened, and then a moment later, understanding clicked in. "Are you…really? Are you sure?"

I nodded. I couldn't explain how I knew for sure. I just did.

Mike watched us curiously. "What's wrong?"

An idea came to mind. "Armin, get his car keys."

He looked back and forth between us. "What are you—"

Armin unhesitatingly walked over to him. His fear poured into me through our psychic bond, but there was something else too: his complete faith that I would take care of everything, that we would be safe. Like always, I hoped I was worthy of that kind of trust.

He smiled broadly and gazed directly into Mike's eyes. For a moment, Mike just stared, still confused, and then I saw the thrall seize him. His eyes glazed over, and he regard Armin adoringly.

"We need to borrow your car," he said in a gentle voice. "Where are your keys?"

Mike smiled, and I shivered. I had a high resistance to compulsion, but I could still feel its effects when it was directed at another person. That, and I'd been taught my entire life that using it was wrong. Reaching into his pocket, Mike handed over a set of keys hanging on a large red key chain.

"Thank you," said Armin. "And where is it parked?"

"Down the street," Mike said dreamily. "At the corner. By Brown." Four blocks away.

"Thank you," Armin said, backing up. "As soon as we leave, I want you to go back to studying. Forget you ever saw us tonight."

He nodded obligingly. I got the impression he would have walked off a cliff for her right then if he'd asked. All humans were susceptible to compulsion, but Mike appeared weaker than most. That came in handy right now.

"Come on," I told him. "We've got to move."

We stepped outside, heading toward the corner Mike had said. I was still dizzy from the bite and kept stumbling, unable to move as quickly as I wanted. Armin had to catch hold of me a few times to stop me from falling. All the time, that anxiety rushed into me from his mind. I tried my best to ignore it; I had my own fears to deal with.

"Eren… what are we going to do if they catch us?" he whispered.

"They won't," I said fiercely. "I won't let them."

"But if they've found us—"

"They found us before. They didn't catch us then. We'll just drive over to the train station and go to L.A. They'll lose the trail."

I made it sound simple. I always did, even though there was nothing simple about being on the run from the people we'd grown up with. We'd been doing it for two years, hiding wherever we could and just trying to finish high school. Our senior year had just started, and living on a college campus had seemed safe. We were so close to freedom.

He said nothing more, and I felt his faith in me surge up once more. This was the way it had always been between us. I was the one who took action, who made sure things happened—sometimes recklessly so. He was the more reasonable one, the one who thought things out and researched them extensively before acting. Both styles had their uses, but at the moment, recklessness was called for. We didn't have time to hesitate.

Armin and I had been best friends ever since kindergarten, when our teacher had paired us together for writing lessons. Forcing five-year-olds to spell Armin Arlet and Eren Jaeger was beyond cruel, and we'd—or rather, I'd—responded appropriately. I'd chucked my book at our teacher and called her a fascist bastard. I hadn't known what those words meant, but I'd known how to hit a moving target.

Armin and I had been inseparable ever since.

"Do you hear that?" he asked suddenly.

It took me a few seconds to pick up what his sharper senses already had. Footsteps, moving fast. I grimaced. We had two more blocks to go.

"We've got to run for it," I said, catching hold of his arm.

"But you can't—"

"Run."

It took every ounce of my willpower not to pass out on the sidewalk. My body didn't want to run after losing blood or while still metabolizing the effects of his saliva. But I ordered my muscles to stop their bitching and clung to Armin as our feet pounded against the concrete. Normally I could have outrun him without any extra effort—particularly since he was barefoot—but tonight, he was all that held me upright.

The pursuing footsteps grew louder, closer. Black stars danced before my eyes. Ahead of us, I could make out Mike's green Honda. Oh God, if we could just make it—

Ten feet from the car, a man stepped directly into our path. We came to a screeching halt, and I jerked Armin back by his arm. It was him, the guy I'd seen across the street watching me. He was older than us, maybe mid-twenties, and as short as I'd figured, probably five-three or five-four. And under different circumstances—say, when he wasn't holding up our desperate escape—I would have thought he was hot. Jet black hair with an undercut. Piercing grey eyes. A long brown coat-a duster, I thought it was called.

But his hotness was irrelevant now. He was only an obstacle keeping Armin and me away from the car and our freedom. The footsteps behind us slowed, and I knew our pursuers had caught up. Off to the sides, I detected more movement, more people closing in. God. They'd sent almost a dozen guardians to retrieve us. I couldn't believe it. The royals themselves didn't travel with that many.

Panicked and not entirely in control of my higher reasoning, I acted out of instinct. I pressed up to Armin, keeping him behind me and away from the man who appeared to be the leader.

"Leave him alone," I growled. "Don't touch him."

His face was unreadable, but he held out his hands in what was apparently supposed to be some sort of calming gesture, like I was a rabid animal he was planning to sedate.

"I'm not going to—"

He took a step forward. Too close.

I attacked him, leaping out in an offensive maneuver I hadn't used in two years, not since Armin and I had run away. The move was stupid, another reaction born of instinct and fear. And it was hopeless. He was a skilled guardian, not a novice who hadn't finished his training. He also wasn't weak and on the verge of passing out.

And man, was he fast. I'd forgotten how fast guardians could be, how they could move and strike like cobras. He knocked me off as though brushing away a fly, and his hands slammed into me and sent me backwards. I don't think he meant to strike that hard—probably just intended to keep me away—but my lack of coordination interfered with my ability to respond. Unable to catch my footing, I started to fall, heading straight toward the sidewalk at a twisted angle, hip-first. It was going to hurt. A lot.

Only it didn't.

Just as quickly as he'd blocked me, the man reached out and caught my arm, keeping me upright. When I'd steadied myself, I noticed he was staring at me—or, more precisely, at my neck. Still disoriented, I didn't get it right away. Then, slowly, my free hand reached up to the side of my throat and lightly touched the wound Armin had made earlier. When I pulled my fingers back, I saw slick, dark blood on my skin. Embarrassed, I shook my hair so that it fell forward around my face. My hair was thick and long, for a boy, and completely covered my neck. I'd grown it out, within reason, for precisely if they I was ever in this situation. It came in handy.

The guy's silver, thin eyes lingered on the now-covered bite a moment longer and then met mine. I returned his look defiantly and quickly jerked out of his hold. He let me go, though I knew he could have restrained me all night if he'd wanted. Fighting the nauseating dizziness, I backed toward Armin again, bracing myself for another attack. Suddenly, Armin's hand caught hold of mine. "Eren," he said quietly. "Don't."

His words had no effect on me at first, but calming thoughts gradually began to settle in my mind, coming across through the bond. It wasn't exactly compulsion—he wouldn't use that on me—but it was effectual, as was the fact that we were hopelessly outnumbered and outclassed. Even I knew struggling would be pointless. The tension left my body, and I sagged in defeat.

Sensing my resignation, the man stepped forward, turning his attention to Armin. His face was calm. He swept her a bow and managed to look graceful doing it. "My name is Levi Ackerman," he said. I could hear a faint French accent. "I've come to take you back to St. Vladimir's Academy, Prince."


	2. Chapter 2: The Decision

**ATTENTION** **: I do not own** **any** **of this. The plot is from one of my favorite books and I'm just replacing the characters from the book with Attack on Titan characters. The book I am using is called Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead, and this is the second chapter.**

 **Chapter 2: The Decision**

My hatred now withstanding, I had to admit Levi Ackerman was pretty smart. After they'd carted us off to the airport to and onto the Academy's private jet, he'd taken one look at the two of us whispering and ordered us separated.

"Don't let them talk to each other," he warned the guardian who escorted me to the back of the plane. "Five minutes together, and they'll come up with an escape plan."

I shot him a haughty look and stormed off down the aisle. Never mind the fact we had been planning escape.

As it was, things didn't look good for our heroes—or heroines, rather. Once we were in the air, our odds of escape dropped further. Even supposing a miracle occurred and I did manage to take out all ten guardians, we'd sort of have a problem in getting off the plane. I figured they might have parachutes aboard somewhere, but in the unlikely event I'd be able to operate one, there was still that little issue of survival, seeing as we'd probably land somewhere in the Rocky Mountains.

No, we weren't getting off this plane until it landed in backwoods Montana. I'd have to think of something then, something that involved getting past the Academy's magical wards and ten times as many guardians. Yeah. No problem.

Although Armin was seated the front with the French guy, his fear sang back to me, pounding inside my head like a hammer. My concern for him cut into my fury. They couldn't take him back there, not to that place. I wondered if Levi might have hesitated if he could feel what I did and if he knew what I knew. Probably not. He didn't care.

As it was, Armin's emotions grew so strong that for a moment, I had the disorienting sensation of sitting in his seat—in his skin even. It happened sometimes, and without much warning, he'd pull me right into his head. Levi's short frame sat beside him, and his hand gripped a bottle of water. Levi leaned forward to pick up something, revealing six tiny symbols tattooed on the back of his neck: molnija marks. They looked like two streaks of jagged lightning crossing in an X symbol. One for each Strigoi he'd killed. Above them was a twisting line, sort of like a snake, that marked him as a guardian. The promise mark.

Blinking, I fought against Armin and shifted back into my own head with a grimace. I hated when that happened. Feeling Armin's emotions was one thing, but slipping into him was something we both despised. He saw it as an invasion of privacy, so I usually didn't tell him when it happened. Neither of us could control it. It was another effect of the bond, a bond neither of us fully understood. Legends existed about psychic links between guardians and their Moroi, but the stories had never mentioned anything like this. We fumbled through it as best we could.

Near the end of the flight, Levi walked back to where I sat and traded places with the guardian beside me. I pointedly turned away, staring out the window absentmindedly. Several moments of silence passed. Finally, he said, "Were you really going to attack all of us?"

I didn't answer.

"Doing that… protecting him like that—it was very brave." He paused. "Stupid, but still brave. Why did you even try it?"

I glanced over at him, brushing my hair out of my face so I could look him levelly in the eye. "Because I'm his guardian." I turned back toward the window.

After another quiet moment, he stood up and returned to the front of the jet.

When we landed, Armin and I had no choice but to let the commandos drive us out to the Academy. Our car stopped at the gate, and our driver spoke with guards who verified we weren't Strigoi about to go off on a killing spree. After a minute, they let us pass on through the wards and up to the Academy itself. It was around sunset—the start of the vampiric day—and the campus lay wrapped in shadows.

It probably looked the same, sprawling and gothic. The Moroi were big on tradition; nothing ever changed with them. This school wasn't as old as the ones back in Europe, but it had been built in the same style. The buildings boasted elaborate, almost churchlike architecture, with high peaks and stone carvings. Wrought iron gates enclosed small gardens and doorways here and there. After living on a college campus, I had a new appreciation for just how much this place resembled a university more than a typical high school.

We were on the secondary campus, which was divided into lower and upper schools. Each was built around a large open quadrangle decorated with stone paths and enormous, century-old trees. We were going toward the upper school's quad, which had academic buildings on one side, while dhampir dormitories and the gym sat opposite. Moroi dorms sat on one of the other ends, and opposite them were the administrative buildings that also served the lower school. Younger students lived on the primary campus, farther to the west.

Around all the campuses was space, space, and more space. We were in Montana, after all, miles away from any real city. The air felt cool in my lungs and smelled of pine and wet, decaying leaves. Overgrown forests ringed the perimeters of the Academy, and during the day, you could see mountains rising up in the distance.

As we walked into the main part of the upper school, I broke from my guardian and ran up to Levi.

"Hey, Comrade."

He kept walking and wouldn't look at me. "You want to talk now?

"Are you taking us to Annie?"

"Headmistress Annie," he corrected. On the other side of him, Armin shot me a look that said, Don't start something.

"Headmistress. Whatever. She's still a self-righteous old bit—"

My words faded as the guardians led us through a set of doors-straight into the commons. I sighed. Were these people really so cruel? There had to be at least a dozen ways to get to Annie's office, and they were taking us right through the center of the commons.

And it was breakfast time.

Novice guardians—dhampirs like me—and Moroi sat together, eating and socializing, faces alight with whatever current gossip held the Academy's attention. When we entered, the loud buzz of conversation stopped instantly, like someone had flipped a switch. Hundreds of sets of eyes swiveled toward us.

I returned the stares of my former classmates with a lazy grin, trying to get a sense as to whether things had changed. Nope. Didn't seem like it. Ymir still looked like the prim, perfectly groomed bitch I remembered, still the self-appointed leader of the Academy's royal Moroi cliques. Off to the side, Armin's gawky near-cousin Legout watched with wide eyes, as innocent and naïve as before.

And on the other side of the room… well, that was interesting. Jean Kirstein. Poor, poor Jean, who'd no doubt had his heart broken when Armin left. He still looked as he did when we left, with those same looks that complemented Armin's. Jean's eyes followed Armin's every move. Yes. Definitely not over him. It was sad, really, because Armin had never really been all that into him. I think he'd gone out with Jean simply because it seemed like the expected thing to do.

But what I found most interesting was that Jean had apparently found a way to pass the time without her. Beside him, holding his hand, was a Moroi guy who looked about eleven but had to be older, unless he'd become a pedophile during our absence. With plump little cheeks with freckles and dark hair. He very pissed off and glaring at Armin. He gripped Jean's hand tightly and shot Armin a look of such burning hatred that it stunned me. What the hell was that all about? He was no one I knew. Just a jealous boyfriend, I guess. I'd be pissed too if my guy was watching someone else like that.

Our walk of shame mercifully ended, though our new setting—Headmistress Annie's office—didn't really improve things. The old hag looked exactly like I remembered, sharp-nosed and gray-blonde-haired. She was tall and slim, like most Moroi, and had always reminded me of a vulture. I knew her well because I'd spent a lot of time in her office from my "behavior"

Most of our escorts left us once Armin and I were seated, and I felt a little less like a prisoner. Only Erwin, the captain of the school's guardians, and Levi stayed. They took up positions along the wall, looking stoic and terrifying, just as their job description required.

Annie fixed her angry eyes on us and opened her mouth to begin what would no doubt be a major bitch session. A deep, gentle voice stopped her.

"Armin."

Startled, I realized there was someone else in the room. I hadn't noticed. Careless for a guardian, even a novice one.

With a great deal of effort, Pixis rose from a corner chair. Prince Pixis. Armin sprang up and ran to him, throwing his arms around Pixis's frail body.

"Uncle," he whispered. He sounded on the verge of tears as he tightened his grip.

With a small smile, he gently patted Armin's back. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you safe, Armin." He looked toward me. "And you too, Eren."

I nodded back, trying to hide how shocked I was. He'd been sick when we left, but this—this was horrible. He was Legout's father, only about forty or so, but he looked twice that age. Pale. Withered. Hands shaking. My heart broke watching him. With all the horrible people in the world, it didn't seem fair that this guy should get a disease that was going to kill him young and ultimately keep him from becoming king.

Although not technically Armin's uncle—the Moroi used family terms very loosely, especially the royals—Pixis was a close friend of Armin's family and had gone out of his way to help us after Armin's parents had died. I liked him; he was the first person I was happy to see here.

Annie let them have a few more moments and then stiffly drew Armin back to his seat.

Time for the lecture.

It was a good one—one of Annie's best, which was saying something. She was a master at them. I swear that was the only reason she'd gone into school administration, because I had yet to see any evidence of her actually liking kids. The rant covered the usual topics: responsibility reckless behavior, self-centeredness…Bleh. I immediately found myself spacing out, alternatively pondering the logistics of escaping through the window in her office.

But when the tirade shifted to me—well, that was when I tuned back in.

"You, Mister Jaeger, broke the most sacred promise among our kind: the promise of a guardian to protect a Moroi. It is a great trust. A trust that you violated by selfishly taking the prince away from here. The Strigoi would love to finish off the Arlets; you nearly enabled them to do it."

"Eren didn't kidnap me." Armin spoke before I could, his voice and face calm, despite his uneasy feelings. "I wanted to go. Don't blame him."

Annie tsked at us both and paced the office, hands folded behind her narrow back.

"Mister Arlet, you could have been the one who orchestrated the entire plan for all I know, but it was still his responsibility to make sure you didn't carry it out. If he'd done his duty, he would have notified someone. If he'd done his duty, he would have kept you safe."

I snapped.

"I did do my duty!" I shouted, jumping up from my chair. Levi and Erwin both flinched but left me alone since I wasn't trying to hit anyone. Yet. "I did keep him safe! I kept him safe when none of you"—I made a sweeping gesture around the room—"could do it. I took him away to protect him. I did what I had to do. You certainly weren't going to."

Through the bond, I felt Armin trying to send me calming messages, again urging me not to let anger get the best of me. Too late.

Annie stared at me, her face blank. "Mister Jaeger, forgive me if I fail to see the logic of how taking him out of a heavily guarded, magically secured environment is protecting him. Unless there's something you aren't telling us?"

I bit my lip.

"I see. Well, then. By my estimation, the only reason you left—aside from the novelty of it, no doubt—was to avoid the consequences of that horrible, destructive stunt you pulled just before your disappearance."

"No, that's not—"

"And that only makes my decision that much easier. As a Moroi, the prince must continue on here at the Academy for his own safety, but we have no such obligations to you. You will be sent away as soon as possible."

My cockiness dried up. "I…what?"

Armin stood up beside me. "You can't do that! He's my guardian."

"He is no such thing, particularly since he isn't even a guardian at all. He's still a novice."

"But my parents—"

"I know what your parents wanted, God rest their souls, but things have changed. Mister Jaeger is expendable. He doesn't deserve to be a guardian, and he will leave."

I stared at Annie, unable to believe what I was hearing. "Where are you going to send me? To my mom in Nepal? Did she even know I was gone? Or maybe you'll send me off to my father?"

Her eyes narrowed at the bite in that last word. When I spoke again, my voice was so cold, I barely recognized it.

"Or maybe you're going to try to send me off to be a blood whore. Try that, and we'll be gone by the end of the day."

"Mister Jaeger," she hissed, "you are out of line."

"They have a bond." Levi's low, accented voice broke the heavy tension, and we all turned toward him. I think Annie had forgotten he was there, but I hadn't. His presence was way too powerful to ignore. He still stood against the wall, looking like some sort of cowboy sentry in that ridiculous long coat of his. He looked at me, not Armin, his silver eyes staring straight through me. "Rose knows what Armin is feeling. Don't you?"

I at least had the satisfaction of seeing Annie caught off guard as she glanced between us and Levi. "No…that's impossible. That hasn't happened in centuries."

"It's obvious," he said. "I suspected as soon as I started watching them."

Neither Armin nor I responded, and I averted my eyes from his.

"That is a gift," murmured Pixis from his corner. "A rare and wonderful thing."

"The best guardians always had that bond," added Levi. "In the stories."

Annie's outrage returned. "Stories that are centuries old," she exclaimed. "Surely you aren't suggesting we let him stay at the Academy after everything he's done?"

He shrugged. "He might be wild and disrespectful, but if he has potential—"

"Wild and disrespectful?" I interrupted. "Who the hell are you anyway? Outsourced help?"

"Guardian Ackerman is the prince's guardian now," said Annie. "His sanctioned guardian."

"You got cheap foreign labor to protect Armin?"

That was pretty mean of me to say—particularly since most Moroi and their guardians were of Russian, French, or Romanian descent—but the comment seemed cleverer at the time than it really was. And it wasn't like I was one to talk. I might have been raised in the U.S., but my parents were foreign-born. My dhampir mother was Scottish—brown-haired, with a ridiculous accent—and I'd been told my Moroi dad was Turkish. That genetic combination had given me skin the same color as the inside of an almond, along with what I liked to think were semi-exotic desert-prince features: big brown eyes and hair so chocolate brown that it usually looks like someone dumped mud on me.

Annie threw her hands up in exasperation and turned to him. "You see? Completely undisciplined! All the psychic bonds and very raw potential in the world can't make up for that. A guardian without discipline is worse than no guardian."

"So teach him discipline. Classes just started. Put him back in and get him training again."

"Impossible. He'll still be hopelessly behind his peers."

"No, I won't," I argued. No one listened to me.

"Then give him extra training sessions," Levi said.

They continued on while the rest of us watched the exchange like it was a Ping-Pong game. My pride was still hurt over the ease with which Levi had tricked us, but it occurred to me that he might very well keep me here with Armin. Better to stay at this hellhole than be without Armin. Through our bond, I could feel his trickle of hope.

"Who's going to put in the extra time?" demanded Annie. "You?"

Dimitri's argument came to an abrupt stop. "Well, that's not what I—"

Annie crossed her arms with satisfaction. "Yes. That's what I thought."

Clearly at a loss, he just barely frowned. His eyes flicked toward Armin and me, and I wondered what he saw. Two pathetic boys, looking at him with big, pleading eyes? Or two runaways who'd broken out of a high-security school and swiped half of Armin's inheritance?

"Yes," he said finally. "I can mentor Eren. I'll give him extra sessions along with his normal ones."

"And then what?" retorted Annie angrily. "He goes unpunished?"

"Find some other way to punish her," answered Levi. "Guardian numbers have gone down too much to risk losing another."

His unspoken words made me shudder, reminding me of my earlier statement about "blood whores."

Pixis suddenly spoke up from his corner. "I'm inclined to agree with Guardian Ackerman. Sending Eren away would be a shame, a waste of talent."

Ms. Annie stared out her window. It was completely black outside. With the Academy's nocturnal schedule, morning and afternoon were relative terms. That, and they kept the windows tinted to block out excess light.

When she turned back around, Armin met her eyes. "Please, Ms. Annie. Let Eren stay."

Oh, Armin, I thought. Be careful. Using compulsion on another Moroi was dangerous—particularly in front of witnesses. But Armin was only using a tiny bit, and we needed all the help we could get. Fortunately, no one seemed to realize what was happening.

I don't even know if the compulsion made a difference, but finally, Annie sighed.

"If Jaeger stays, here's how it will be." She turned to me. "Your continued enrollment at St. Vladimir's is strictly probationary. Step out of line once, and you're gone. You will attend all classes and required trainings for novices your age. You will also train with Guardian Ackerman in every spare moment you have—before and after classes. Other than that, you are banned from all social activities, except meals, and will stay in your dorm. Fail to comply with any of this, and you will be sent away."

I gave a harsh laugh. "Banned from all social activities? Are you trying to keep us apart?" I nodded toward Armin. "Afraid we'll run away again?"

"I'm taking precautions. As I'm sure you recall, you were never properly punished for destroying school property. You have a lot to make up for." Her thin lips tightened into a straight line. "You are being offered a very generous deal. I suggest you don't let your attitude endanger it."

I started to say it wasn't generous at all, but then I caught Levi's gaze. It was hard to read. He might have been telling me he believed in me. He might have been telling me I was an idiot to keep fighting with Annie. I didn't know.

Looking away from him for the second time during the meeting, I stared at the floor, conscious of Armin beside me and his own encouragement burning in our bond. At long last, I exhaled and glanced back up at the headmistress.

"Fine. I accept."


	3. Chapter 3: First Day

**ATTENTION** : **I do not own** **any** **of this. I can take very little credit for this, all I did was replaces names and genders and added a little bit of sass. The writing is from one of my favorite books and I'm just replacing the characters from the book with Attack on Titan characters. The book I am using is called ' Vampire Academy' by Richelle Mead.**

 **Book 1: Vampire Academy**

 **Chapter 3: First Day**

Sending us straight to class after our meeting seemed beyond cruel, but that's exactly what Annie did. Armin was led away, and I watched him go, glad the bond would allow me to keep reading his emotional temperature.

They actually sent me to one of the guidance counselors first. He was an ancient Moroi woman, one I remembered from before I'd left. I honestly couldn't believe she was still around. The woman was so freaking old, she should have retired. Or died.

The visit took all of five minutes. She said nothing about my return and asked a few questions about what classes I'd taken in Chicago and Portland. She compared those against my old file and hastily scrawled out a new schedule. I took it sullenly and headed out to my first class.

Ugh. I'd forgotten how long the Academy's school day was. Novices and Moroi took separate classes during the first half of the day, which meant I wouldn't see Armin until after lunch—if we had any afternoon classes together. Most of them were standard senior classes, so I felt my odds were pretty good. Slavic art struck me as the kind of elective no one signed up for, so hopefully they'd stuck him in there too.

Levi and Erwin escorted me to the guardians' gym for first period, neither one acknowledging my existence. Walking behind them, I saw how Erwin cut his hair similar to Levi's, but up to his ears, more military style, and exposed the promise mark and molnija marks. A lot of guardians did this. It didn't matter so much for me now, since my neck had no tattoos yet, but I didn't want to ever cut my hair like that.

He and Levi didn't say anything and walked along almost like it was any other day. When we arrived, the reactions of my peers indicated it was anything but. They were in the middle of setting up when we entered the gym, and just like in the commons, all eyes fell on me. I couldn't decide if I felt like a rock star or a circus freak.

All right, then. If I was going to be stuck here for a while, I wasn't going to act afraid of them all anymore. Armin and I had once held this school's respect, and it was time to remind everyone of that. Scanning the staring, openmouthed novices, I looked for a familiar face. One caught my eye, and I could barely hold back my grin.

"Hey Petra, wipe the drool off your face. If you're going to think about me naked, do it on your own time."

A few snorts and snickers broke the awed silence, and Petra Ral snapped out of her haze, giving me a lopsided smile. With red hair that stuck up everywhere, she was nice-looking, though not exactly hot. She was also one of the funniest girls I knew. We'd been good friends back in the day.

"This is my time, Jaeger. I'm leading today's session."

"Oh yeah?" I retorted. "Huh. Well, I guess this is a good time to think about me naked, then."

"It's always a good a time to think about you naked," added someone nearby, breaking the tension further. Hitch Dreyse. Another friend of mine.

Levi shook his head and walked off, muttering something in French that didn't sound complimentary. But as for me…well, just like that, I was one of the novices again. They were an easygoing bunch, less focused on pedigree and politics than the Moroi students.

The class engulfed me, and I found myself laughing and seeing those I'd nearly forgotten about. Everyone wanted to know where we'd been; apparently Armin and I had become legends. I couldn't tell them why we'd left, of course, so I offered up a lot of taunts and wouldn't-you-like-to-knows that served just as well.

The happy reunion lasted a few more minutes before the adult guardian who oversaw the training came over and scolded Petra for neglecting her duties. Still grinning, she barked out orders to everyone, explaining what exercises to start with. Uneasily I realized I didn't know most of them.

"Come on, Jaeger," she said, taking my arm. "You can be my partner. Let's see what you've been doing all this time."

An hour later, she had his answer.

"Not practicing, huh?"

"Ow," I groaned, momentarily incapable of normal speech.

She extended a hand and helped me up from the mat she'd knocked me down on—about fifty times.

"I hate you," I told her, rubbing a spot on my thigh that was going to have a wicked bruise tomorrow.

"You'd hate me more if I held back."

"Yeah, that's true," I agreed, staggering along as the class put the equipment back.

"You actually did okay."

"What? I just had my ass handed to me."

"Well, of course you did. It's been two years. But hey, you're still walking. That's something." She grinned mockingly.

"Did I mention I hate you?"

She flashed me another smile, which quickly faded to something more serious. "Don't take this the wrong way…I mean, you really are a scrapper, but there's no way you'll be able to take your trials in the spring—"

"They're making me take extra practice sessions," I explained. Not that it mattered. I planned on getting Armin and me out of here before these practices really became an issue. "I'll be ready."

"Extra sessions with who?"

"That short guy. Levi."

Petra stopped walking and stared at me. "You're putting in extra time with Ackerman?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"So the man is a god."

"Exaggerate much?" I asked.

"No, I'm serious. I mean, he's all quiet and antisocial usually, but when he fights…wow. If you think you're hurting now, you're going to be dead when he's done with you."

Great. Something else to improve my day.

I elbowed her and went on to second period. That class covered the essentials of being a bodyguard and was required for all seniors. Actually, it was the third in a series that had started junior year. That meant I was behind in this class too, but I hoped protecting Armin in the real world had given me some insight.

Our instructor was Oluo Bozado, whom we referred to simply as "Oluo" behind his back and "Guardian Bozado" in formal settings. He was a little older than Levi, but not nearly as short, and he always looked pissed off. Today, that look intensified when he walked into the classroom and saw me sitting there. His eyes widened in mock surprise as he circled the room and came to stand beside my desk.

"What's this? No one told me we had a guest speaker here today. Eren Jaeger. What a privilege! How very generous of you to take time out of your busy schedule and share your knowledge with us."

I felt my cheeks burning, but in a great show of self-control, I stopped myself from telling him to fuck off. I'm pretty sure my face must have delivered that message, however, because his sneer increased. He gestured for me to stand up.

"Well, come on, come on. Don't sit there! Come up to the front so you can help me lecture the class."

I sank into my seat. "You don't really mean—"

The taunting smile dried up. "I mean exactly what I say, Jaeger. Go to the front of the class."

A thick silence enveloped the room. Oluo was a scary instructor, and most of the class was too awed to laugh at my disgrace quite yet. Refusing to crack, I strode up to the front of the room and turned to face the class. I gave them a bold look and tossed my head back. I then noticed I had a larger audience than expected. A few guardians—including Levi—lingered in the back of the room. Outside the Academy, guardians focused on one-on-one protection. Here, guardians had a lot more people to protect and they had to train the novices. So rather than follow any one person around, they worked shifts guarding the school as a whole and monitoring classes.

"So, Jaeger," said Oluo cheerfully, strolling back up to the front with me. "Enlighten us about your protective techniques."

"My…techniques?"

"Of course. Because presumably you must have had some sort of plan the rest of us couldn't understand when you took an underage Moroi royal out of the Academy and exposed her to constant Strigoi threats."

It was the Annie lecture all over again, except with more witnesses.

"We never ran into any Strigoi," I replied stiffly.

"Obviously," he said with a snicker. "I already figured that out, seeing as how you're still alive."

I wanted to shout that maybe I could have defeated a Strigoi, but after getting beat up in the last class, I now suspected I couldn't have survived an attack by Petra, let alone an actual Strigoi.

When I didn't say anything, Oluo started pacing in front of the class.

"So what'd you do? How'd you make sure Armin stayed safe? Did you avoid going out at night?"

"Sometimes." That was true—especially when we'd first run away. We'd relaxed a little after months went by with no attacks.

"Sometimes," he repeated in a high-pitched voice, making my answer sound incredibly stupid. "Well then, I suppose you slept during the day and stayed on guard at night."

"Er…no."

"No? But that's one of the first things mentioned in the chapter on solo guarding. Oh wait, you wouldn't know that because you weren't here."

I swallowed back more swear words. "I watched the area whenever we went out," I said, needing to defend myself.

"Oh? Well that's something. Did you use Garrison's Quadrant Surveillance Method or the Survey Corps?"

I didn't say anything.

"Ah. I'm guessing you used the Jaeger Glance-Around-When-You-Remember-To Method."

"No!" I exclaimed angrily. "That's not true. I watched him. He's still alive, isn't he?"

He walked back up to me and leaned toward my face. "Because you got lucky."

"Strigoi aren't lurking around every corner out there," I shot back. "It's not like what we've been taught. It's safer than you guys make it sound."

"Safer? Safer? We are at war with the Strigoi!" he yelled. I could smell coffee on his breath, he was so close. "One of them could walk right up to you and snap your little neck before you even noticed him—and he'd barely break a sweat doing it. You might have more speed and strength than a Moroi or a human, but you are nothing, nothing, compared to a Strigoi. They are deadly, and they are powerful. And do you know what makes them more powerful?"

No way was I going to let this jerk make me cry. Looking away from him, I tried to focus on something else. My eyes rested on Levi and the other guardians. They were watching my humiliation, stone-faced.

"Moroi blood," I whispered.

"What was that?" asked Oluo loudly. "I didn't catch it."

I spun back around to face him. "Moroi blood! Moroi blood makes them stronger."

He nodded in satisfaction and took a few steps back. "Yes. It does. It makes them stronger and harder to destroy. They'll kill and drink from a human or dhampir, but they want Moroi blood more than anything else. They seek it. They've turned to the dark side to gain immortality, and they want to do whatever they can to keep that immortality. Desperate Strigoi have attacked Moroi in public. Groups of Strigoi have raided academies exactly like this one. There are Strigoi who have lived for thousands of years and fed off generations of Moroi. They're almost impossible to kill. And that is why Moroi numbers are dropping. They aren't strong enough—even with guardians—to protect themselves. Some Moroi don't even see the point of running anymore and are simply turning Strigoi by choice. And as the Moroi disappear…"

"…so do the dhampirs," I finished

"Well," he said, licking sprayed spit off his lips. "It looks like you learned something after all. Now we'll have to see if you can learn enough to pass this class and qualify for your field experience next semester."

Ouch. I spent the rest of that horrible class—in my seat, thankfully—replaying those last words in my mind. The senior-year field experience was the best part of a novice's education. We'd have no classes for half a semester. Instead, we'd each be assigned a Moroi student to guard and follow around. The adult guardians would monitor us and test us with staged attacks and other threats. How a novice passed that field experience was almost as important as all the rest of his grades combined. It could influence which Moroi he got assigned to after graduation.

And me? There was only one Moroi I wanted.

Two classes later, I finally earned my lunch escape. As I stumbled across campus toward the commons, Levi fell into step beside me, not looking particularly godlike—unless you counted his godly good looks.

"I suppose you saw what happened in Oluo's class?" I asked, not bothering with titles.

"Yes."

"And you don't think that was unfair?"

"Was he right? Do you think you were fully prepared to protect Armin?"

I looked down at the ground. "I kept him alive," I mumbled.

"How did you do fighting against your classmates today?"

The question was mean. I didn't answer and knew I didn't need to. I'd had another training class after Oluo's, and no doubt Levi had watched me get beat up there too.

"If you can't fight them—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I snapped.

He matched my pain-filled stride. "You're strong and fast by nature. You just need to keep yourself trained. Didn't you play any sports while you were gone?"

"Sure," I shrugged. "Now and then."

"You didn't join any teams?"

"Too much work. If I'd wanted to practice that much, I'd have stayed here."

He gave me an exasperated look. "You'll never be able to really protect the prince if you don't hone your skills. You'll always be lacking."

"I'll be able to protect him," I said fiercely.

"You have no guarantees of being assigned to him, you know—for your field experience or after you graduate." Levi's voice was low and unapologetic. They hadn't given me a warm and fuzzy mentor. "No one wants to waste the bond—but no one's going to give him an inadequate guardian either. If you want to be with him, then you need to work for it. You have your lessons. You have me. Use us or don't. You're an ideal choice to guard Armin when you both graduate—if you can prove you're worthy. I hope you will."

"Armin, call him Armin," I corrected. He preferred the Americanized nickname.

He walked away, and suddenly, I didn't feel like such a badass anymore.

By now, I'd burned up a lot of time leaving class. Most everyone else had long since sprinted inside the commons for lunch, eager to maximize their social time. I'd almost made it back there myself when a voice under the door's overhang called to me.

"Eren?"

Peering in the voice's direction, I caught sight of Pixis, his kind face smiling at me as he leaned on a cane near the building's wall. His two guardians stood nearby at a polite distance.

"Mr. Pixis, Your Highness. Hi."

I caught myself just in time, having nearly forgotten Moroi royal terms. I hadn't used them while living among humans. The Moroi chose their rulers from among twelve royal families. The eldest in the family got the title of "prince" or "princess." Armin had gotten his because he was the only one left in his line.

"How was your first day?" he asked.

"Not over yet." I tried to think of something conversational. "Are you visiting here for a while?"

"I'll be leaving this afternoon after I say hello to Legout. When I heard Armin—and you—had returned, I simply had to come see you."

I nodded, not sure what else to say. He was more Armin's friend than mine.

"I wanted to tell you…" He spoke hesitantly. "I understand the gravity of what you did, but I think Headmistress Annie failed to acknowledge something. You did keep Armin safe all this time. That is impressive."

"Well, it's not like I faced down Strigoi or anything," I said.

"But you faced down some things?"

"Sure. The school sent psi-hounds once."

"Remarkable."

"Not really. Avoiding them was pretty easy."

He laughed. "I've hunted with them before. They aren't that easy to evade, not with their powers and intelligence." It was true. Psi-hounds were one of many types of magical creatures that wandered the world, creatures that humans never knew about or else didn't believe they'd really seen. The hounds traveled in packs and shared a sort of psychic communication that made them particularly deadly to their prey—as did the fact that they resembled mutant wolves. "Did you face anything else?"

I shrugged. "Little things here and there."

"Remarkable," he repeated.

"Lucky, I think. It turns out I'm really behind in all this guardian stuff." I sounded just like Oluo now.

"You're a smart boy. You'll catch up. And you also have your bond."

I looked away. My ability to "feel" Armin had been such a secret for so long, it felt weird to have others know about it.

"The histories are full of stories of guardians who could feel when their charges were in danger," Pixis continued.

"I've made a hobby of studying up on it and some of the ancient ways. I've heard it's a tremendous asset."

"I guess." I shrugged. What a boring hobby, I thought, imagining him poring over prehistoric histories in some dank library covered in spider webs.

Pixis tilted his head, curiosity all over his face. Annie and the others had had the same look when we'd mentioned our connection, like we were lab rats. "What is it like—if you don't mind me asking?"

"It's…I don't know. I just sort of always have this hum of how he feels. Usually it's just emotions. We can't send messages or anything." I didn't tell him about slipping into her head. That part of it was hard even for me to understand.

"But it doesn't work the other way? He doesn't sense you?"

I shook my head.

His face shone with wonder. "How did it happen?"

"I don't know," I said, still glancing away. "Just started two years ago."

He frowned. "Near the time of the accident?"

Hesitantly, I nodded. The accident was not something I wanted to talk about, that was for sure. Armin's memories were bad enough without my own mixing into them. Twisted metal. A sensation of hot, then cold, then hot again. Armin screaming over me, screaming for me to wake up, screaming for his parents and his brother to wake up. None of them had, only me.

And the doctors said that was a miracle in itself. They said I shouldn't have survived.

Apparently sensing my discomfort, Pixis let the moment go and returned to his earlier excitement.

"I can still barely believe this. It's been so long since this has happened. If it did happen more often…just think what it could do for the safety of all Moroi. If only others could experience this too. I'll have to do more research and see if we can replicate it with others."

"Yeah." I was getting impatient, despite how much I liked him. Legout rambled a lot, and it was pretty clear which parent she'd inherited that quality from. Lunch was ticking down, and although Moroi and novices shared afternoon classes, Armin and I wouldn't have much time to talk.

"Perhaps we could—" He started coughing, a great, seizing fit that made his whole body shake. His disease, Sandovsky's Syndrome, took the lungs down with it while dragging the body toward death. I cast an anxious look at his guardians, and one of them stepped forward. "Your Highness," he said politely, "you need to go inside. It's too cold out here."

Pixis nodded. "Yes, yes. And I'm sure Eren here wants to eat." He turned to me. "Thank you for speaking to me. I can't emphasize how much it means to me that Armin is safe—and that you helped with that. I'd promised his father I'd look after her if anything happened to him, and I felt like quite the failure when you left."

A sinking sensation filled my stomach as I imagined him wracked with guilt and worry over our disappearance. Until now, I hadn't really thought about how others might have felt about us leaving.

We made our goodbyes, and I finally arrived inside the school. As I did, I felt Armin's anxiety spike. Ignoring the pain in my legs, I picked up my pace into the commons.

And nearly ran right into him.

He didn't see me, though. Neither did the people standing with him: Jean and that little petty boy. I stopped and listened, just catching the end of the conversation. The boy leaned toward Armin, who seemed more stunned than anything else.

"It looks to me like it came from a garage sale. I thought a precious Arlet would have standards." Scorn dripped off the word Arlet.

Grabbing petty boy by the shoulder, I jerked him away. He was so light, he stumbled three feet and nearly fell.

"He does have standards," I said, "which is why you're done talking to him."


	4. Chapter 4: Stay or Leave?

**ATTENTION** : **I do not own** **any** **of this. I can take very little credit for this, all I did was replaces names and genders and added a little bit of sass. The writing is from one of my favorite books and I'm just replacing the characters from the book with Attack on Titan characters. The book I am using is called ' Vampire Academy' by Richelle Mead.**

 **Book 1: Vampire Academy**

 **Chapter 4: Stay or Leave?**

We didn't have the entire commons' attention this time, thank God, but a few passing people had stopped to stare.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" asked petty boy, blue eyes wide and sparkling with fury. Up close now, I was able to get a better look at him. He had the same slim build as most Moroi and a face of freckles, which was partly what made him look so young.

I crossed my arms across my chest. "Are you lost, little boy? The elementary school's over on west campus."

A pink flush spread over his cheeks. "Don't you ever touch me. You screw with me, and I'll screw you right back."

Oh man, what an opening that was. Only a head shake from Armin that stopped me from unleashing any number of hilarious comebacks. Instead, I opted for simple brute force, so to speak.

"And if you mess with either of us again, I'll break you in half. If you don't believe me, go ask Marlo Freudenburg about what I did to his arm in ninth grade. You were probably at nap time when it happened."

The incident with Marlo hadn't been one of my finer moments. I honestly hadn't expected to break any bones when I shoved him into a tree. Still, the incident had given me a dangerous reputation, in addition to my smartass one. The story had gained legendary status, and I liked to imagine that it was still being told around campfires late at night. Judging from the look on this boy's face, it was.

One of the patrolling staff members strolled by right then, casting suspicious eyes at our little meeting. Petty Boy backed off, taking Jean's arm. "Come on," he said.

"Hey, Jean," I said cheerfully, remembering he was there. "Nice to see you again."

He gave me a quick nod and an uneasy smile, just as the boy dragged him off. Same old Jean. He might be nice and cute, but aggressive he was not.

I turned to Armin. "You okay?" He nodded. "Any idea who I just threatened to beat up?"

"Not a clue." I started to lead toward the lunch line, but he shook his head at me. "Gotta go see the feeders."

A funny feeling settled over me. I'd gotten so used to being his primary blood source that the thought of returning to the Moroi's normal routine seemed strange. In fact, it almost bothered me. It shouldn't have. Daily feedings were part of a Moroi's life, something I hadn't been able to offer him while living on our own. It had been an inconvenient situation, one that left me weak on feeding days and him weak on the days in between. I should have been happy he would get some normality.

I forced a smile. "Sure."

We walked into the feeding room, which sat adjacent to the cafeteria. It was set up with small cubicles, dividing the room's space in an effort to offer privacy. A dark-haired Moroi woman greeted us at the entrance and glanced down at her clipboard, flipping through the pages. Finding what she needed, she made a few notes and then gestured for Armin to follow. She gave a puzzled look, but she didn't stop me from entering.

She led us to one of the cubicles where a plump, middle-aged woman sat leafing through a magazine. She looked up at our approach and smiled. In her eyes, I could see the dreamy, glazed-over look most feeders had. She'd probably neared her quota for the day, judging from how high she appeared to be.

Recognizing Armin, her smile grew. "Welcome back, Prince."

The greeter left us, and Armin sat down in the chair beside the woman. I sensed a feeling of discomfort in him, a little different from my own. This was weird for him too; it had been a long time. The feeder, however, had no such reservations. An eager look crossed her face—the look of a junkie about to get her next fix.

Disgust poured into me. It was an old instinct, one that had been drilled in over the years. Feeders were essential to Moroi life. They were humans who willingly volunteered to be a regular blood source, humans from the fringes of society who gave their lives over to the secret world of the Moroi. They were well cared for and given all the comforts they could need. But at the heart of it, they were drug users, addicts to Moroi saliva and the rush it offered with each bite. The Moroi—and guardians—looked down on this dependency, even though the Moroi couldn't have survived otherwise unless they took victims by force. Hypocrisy at its finest.

The feeder tilted her head, giving Armin full access to her neck. Her skin there was marked with scars from years of daily bites. The infrequent feedings Armin and I had done had kept my neck clear; my bite marks never lasted more than a day or so.

Armin leaned forward, fangs biting into the feeder's yielding flesh. The woman closed her eyes, making a soft sound of pleasure. I swallowed, watching Armin drink. I couldn't see any blood, but I could imagine it. A surge of emotion grew in my chest: longing. Jealousy. I averted my eyes, staring at the floor. Mentally, I scolded myself.

What's wrong with you? Why should you miss it? You only did it once every day. You aren't addicted, not like this. And you don't want to be.

But I couldn't help myself, couldn't help the way I felt as I recalled the bliss and rush of a vampire's bite.

Armin finished and we returned to the commons, moving toward the lunch line. It was short, since we only had fifteen minutes left, and I strolled up and began to load my plate with French fries and some rounded, bite-size objects that looked vaguely like chicken nuggets. Armin only grabbed a yogurt. Moroi needed food, as dhampirs and humans did, but rarely had an appetite after drinking blood.

"So how'd classes go?" I asked.

He shrugged. His face was bright with color and life now. "Okay. Lots of stares. A lot of stares. Lots of questions about where we were. Whispering."

"Same here," I said. The attendant checked us out, and we walked toward the tables. I gave Armin a sidelong glance. "You okay with that? They aren't bothering you, are they?"

"No—it's fine." The emotions coming through the bond contradicted his words. Knowing I could feel that, he tried to change the subject by handing me his class schedule. I looked it over.

"Nerd," I said. "If you were in Stupid Math like me, we'd have the same afternoon schedule." I stopped walking. "Why are you in elemental basics? That's a sophomore class."

He eyed me. "Because seniors take specialized classes."

We fell silent at that. All Moroi wielded elemental magic. It was one of the things that differentiated living vampires from Strigoi, the dead vampires. Moroi viewed magic as a gift. It was part of their souls and connected them to the world.

A long time ago, they had used their magic openly—averting natural disasters and helping with things like food and water production. They didn't need to do that as much anymore, but the magic was still in their blood. It burned in them and made them want to reach out to the earth and wield their power. Academies like this existed to help Moroi control the magic and learn how to do increasingly complex things with it. Students also had to learn the rules that surrounded magic, rules that had been in place for centuries and were strictly enforced.

All Moroi had a small ability in each element. When they got to be around our age, students "specialized" when one element grew stronger than the others: earth, water, fire, or air. Not specializing was like not going through puberty.

And Armin…well, Armin hadn't specialized yet.

"Is Ms. Hannah Diamant still teaching that? What she'd say?"

"She says she's not worried. She thinks it'll come."

"Did you—did you tell her about—"

Armin shook his head. "No. Of course not."

We let the subject drop. It was one we thought about a lot but rarely spoke of.

We started moving again, scanning the tables as we decided where to sit. A few pairs of eyes looked up at us with blatant curiosity.

"Armin!" came a nearby voice. Glancing over, we saw Legout waving at us. Armin and I exchanged looks. Legout was sort of Armin's cousin in the way Pixis was sort of his uncle, but we'd never hung out with Legout all that much.

Armin shrugged and headed in that direction. "Why not?"

I followed reluctantly. Legout was nice but also one of the most uninteresting people I knew. Most royals at the school enjoyed a kind of celebrity status, but Legout had never fit in with that crowd. She was too plain, too uninterested in the politics of the Academy, and too clueless to really navigate them anyway.

Legout's friends eyed us with a quiet curiosity, but she didn't hold back. She threw her arms around us. Like Armin, she had aqua-blue eyes, but her hair was jet black, like Pixis's had been before his disease grayed it.

"You're back! I knew you would be! Everyone said you were gone forever, but I never believed that. I knew you couldn't stay away. Why'd you go? There are so many stories about why you left!" Armin and I exchanged glances as Legout prattled on. "_ said one of you got pregnant and went off to have an abortion, but I knew that couldn't be true. Someone else said you went off to hang out with Eren's mom, but I figured Ms. Annie and Daddy wouldn't have been so upset if you'd turned up there. Did you know we might get to be roommates? I was talking to…"

On and on she chatted, flashing her fangs as she spoke. I smiled politely, letting Armin deal with the onslaught until Legout asked a dangerous question.

"What'd you do for blood, Armin?"

The table regarded us questioningly. Armin froze, but I immediately jumped in, the lie coming effortlessly to my lips.

"Oh, it's easy. There are a lot of humans who want to do it."

"Really?" asked one of Legout's friends, wide-eyed.

"Yup. You find 'em at parties and stuff. They're all looking for a fix from something, and they don't really get that a vampire's doing it: most are already so wasted they don't remember anyway." My already vague details dried up, so I simply shrugged in as cool and confident a way as I could manage. It wasn't like any of them knew any better. "Like I said, it's easy. Almost easier than with our own feeders."

Legout accepted this and then launched into some other topic. Armin shot me a grateful look.

Ignoring the conversation again, I took in the old faces, trying to figure out who was hanging out with whom and how power had shifted within the school. Petra, sitting with a group of novices, caught my eye, and I smiled. Near her, a group of Moroi royals sat, laughing over something. Jean and the freckled boy sat there too.

"Hey, Legout," I said, turning around and cutting her off. She didn't seem to notice or mind. "Who's Jean's new boyfriend?"

"Huh? Oh. Marco Bott." Seeing my blank look, she asked, "Don't you remember him?"

"Should I? Was he here when we left?"

"He's always been here," said Natalie. "He's only a year younger than us."

I shot a questioning look at Armin, who only shrugged.

"Why is he so pissed off at us?" I asked. "Neither of us know him."

"I don't know," answered Legout. "Maybe he's jealous about Jean. He wasn't much of anybody when you guys left. He got really popular really fast. He isn't royal or anything, but once he started dating Jean, he—"

"Okay, thanks," I interrupted. "It doesn't really—"

My eyes lifted up from Legout's face to Thomas Wagner's, just as he passed by our table. Ah, Thomas. I'd forgotten about him. I liked flirting with Petra and some of the other novices, but Thomas was in an entirely different category. You flirted with the other people simply for the sake of flirting. You flirted with Thomas in the hopes of getting semi-naked with him. He was a royal Moroi, and he was so hot, he should have worn a warning: flammable sign. He met my eyes and grinned.

"Hey Eren, welcome back. You still breaking hearts?"

"Are you volunteering?"

His grin widened. "Let's hang out sometime and find out. If you ever get off parole."

He kept walking, and I watched him admiringly. Legout and her friends stared at me in awe. I might not be a god in the Levi sense, but with this group, Armin and I were gods—or at least former gods—of another nature.

"Oh my gawd," exclaimed one girl. I didn't remember their name. "That was Thomas."

"Yes," I said, smiling. "It certainly was."

"I wish I looked like you," she added with a sigh.

Their eyes fell on me. Technically, I was half-Moroi, but my looks were human. I'd blended in well with humans during our time away, so much so that I'd barely thought about my appearance at all.

It was ironic that dhampirs had such an allure here, because slender Moroi girls looked very much like the super-skinny runway models so popular in the human world. Most humans could never reach that "ideal" skinniness, just as Moroi girls could never look like me. Everyone wanted what she couldn't have.

"All right," I told Armin when classes finally ended. We stood outside the school, and I was fully aware that in doing so, I was already breaking the terms of my agreement with Annie. "We're not staying here," I told Armin, looking around the campus uneasily. "I'm going to find a way to get us out."

"You think we could really do it a second time?" Armin asked quietly.

"Absolutely." I spoke with certainty, again relieved he couldn't read my feelings. Escaping the first time had been tricky enough. Doing it again would be a real bitch, not that I couldn't still find a way.

"You really would, wouldn't you?" he smiled, more to himself than to me, like he'd thought of something funny. "Of course you would. It's just, well…" he sighed. "I don't know if we should go. Maybe—maybe we should stay."

I blinked in astonishment. "What?" Not one of my more eloquent answers, but the best I could manage. I'd never expected this from him.

"I saw you, Eren. I saw you talking to the other novices during class, talking about practice. You miss that."

"It's not worth it," I argued. "Not if…not if you…" I couldn't finish, but he was right. He'd read me. I had missed the other novices. Even some of the Moroi. But there was more to it than just that. The weight of my inexperience, how much I'd fallen behind, had been growing all day.

"It might be better," he countered. "I haven't had as many…you know, things happening in a while. I haven't felt like anyone was following or watching us."

I didn't say anything to that. Before we'd left the Academy, he'd always felt like someone was following him, like he was being hunted. I'd never seen evidence to support that, but I had once heard one of our teachers go on and on about the same sort of thing. Mr. Bertolt Hoover. He'd been a Moroi, with dark air and high cheekbones. And I was pretty sure he'd been crazy.

"You never know who's watching," he used to say, walking briskly around the classroom as he shut all the blinds. "Or who's following you. Best to be safe. Best to always be safe." We'd snickered amongst ourselves because that's what students do around eccentric and paranoid teachers. The thought of Armin acting like him bothered me.

"What's wrong?" Armin asked, noticing that I was lost in thought.

"Huh? Nothing. Just thinking." I sighed, trying to balance my own wants with what was best for him. "Armin, we can stay, I guess…but there are a few conditions."

This made him laugh. "An Eren ultimatum, huh?"

"I'm serious." Words I didn't say very much. "I want you to stay away from the royals. Not like Legout or anything but you know, the others. The power players. Sasha. Connie. That group."

His amusement turned to astonishment. "Are you serious?"

"Sure. You never liked them anyway."

"You did."

"No. Not really. I liked what they could offer. All the parties and stuff."

"And you can go without that now?" He looked skeptical.

"Sure. We did in Portland."

"Yeah, but that was different." His eyes stared off, not really focused on any one thing. "Here…here I've got to be a part of that. I can't avoid it."

"The hell you do. Legout stays out of that stuff."

"Legout isn't going to inherit her family's title," he retorted. "I've already got it. I've got to be involved, start making connections. My dad—"

"Armin," I groaned. "You aren't your dad." I couldn't believe he was still comparing himself to his father.

"He was always involved in all that stuff."

"Yeah, well," I snapped back, "he's dead now."

His face hardened. "You know, sometimes you aren't very nice."

"You don't keep me around to be nice. You want nice, there are a dozen sheep in there who would rip each other's throats to get in good with the Arlet prince. You keep me around to tell you the truth, and here it is: your dad's dead. You're the heir now, and you're going to deal with it however you can. But for now, that means staying away from the other royals. We'll just lie low. Coast through the middle. Get involved in that stuff again, Armin, and you'll drive yourself…"

"Crazy?" he supplied when I didn't finish.

Now I looked away. "I didn't mean…"

"Its okay." he said, after a moment. He sighed and touched my arm. "Fine. We'll stay and we'll keep out of all that stuff. We'll 'coast through the middle' like you want. Hang out with Legout, I guess."

To be perfectly honest, I didn't want any of that. I wanted to go to all the royal parties and wild drunken festivities like we'd done before. We'd kept out of that life for years until Armin's parents died

I'd gotten to join that world with him. It was easy for me, because I didn't really have to deal with the politics of it. I was a pretty dhampir, one who didn't mind getting into trouble and pulling crazy stunts. I became a novelty; they liked having me around for the fun of it.

Armin had to deal with other matters. The Arlets were one of the twelve ruling families. He'd have a very powerful place in Moroi society, and the other young royals wanted to get in good with him. Fake friends tried to schmooze him and get him to team up against other people. The royals could bribe and backstab in the same breath—and that was just with each other. To dhampirs and non-royals, they were completely unpredictable.

That cruel culture had eventually taken its toll on Armin. He had an open, kind nature, one that I loved, and I hated to see him upset and stressed by royal games. He'd grown fragile since the accident, and all the parties in the world weren't worth seeing him hurt.

"All right then," I said finally. "We'll see how this goes. If anything goes wrong—anything at all—we leave. No arguments."

He nodded.

"Eren?"

We both looked up at Levi's looming form. I hoped he hadn't heard the part about us leaving.

"You're late for practice," he said evenly. Seeing Armin, he gave a polite nod. "Prince."

As he and I walked away, I worried about Armin and wondered if staying here was the right thing to do. I felt nothing alarming through the bond, but his emotions spiked all over the place. Confusion. Nostalgia. Fear. Anticipation. Strong and powerful, they flooded into me.

I felt the pull just before it happened. It was exactly like what had happened on the plane: his emotions grew so strong that they "sucked" me into his head before I could stop them. I could now see and feel what she did.

She walked slowly around the commons, toward the small Orthodox chapel that served most of the school's religious needs. Armin had always attended mass regularly. Not me.

I had a standing arrangement with God: I'd agree to believe in him—barely—so long as he let me sleep in on Sundays.

But as he went inside, I could feel that he wasn't there to pray. He had another purpose, one I didn't know about. Glancing around, he verified that neither the priest nor any worshippers were close by. The place was empty.

Slipping through a doorway in the back of the chapel, he climbed a narrow set of creaky stairs up into the attic. Here it was dark and dusty. The only light came through a large stained-glass window that fractured the faint glow of sunrise into tiny, multicolored gems across the floor.

I hadn't known until that moment that this room was a regular retreat for Armin. But now I could feel it, feel his memories of how he used to escape here to be alone and to think. The anxiety in him ebbed away ever so slightly as he took in the familiar surroundings. He climbed up into the window seat and leaned his head back against its side, momentarily entranced by the silence and the light.

Moroi could stand some sunlight, unlike the Strigoi, but they had to limit their exposure. Sitting here, he could almost pretend she was in the sun, protected by the glass's dilution of the rays.

Breathe, just breathe, he told himself. It'll be okay. Eren will take care of everything.

He believed that passionately, like always, and relaxed further.

Then a low voice spoke from the darkness.

"You can have the Academy but not the window seat."

He sprang up, heart pounding. I shared his anxiety, and my own pulse quickened. "Who's there?"

A moment later, a shape rose from behind a stack of crates, just outside his field of vision. The figure stepped forward, and in the poor lighting, familiar features materialized. Messy black hair. Pale blue eyes. A perpetually sardonic smirk.

Mikasa Ackerman.

"Don't worry," she said. "I won't bite. Well, at least not in the way you're afraid of." She chuckled at her own joke.

Armin didn't find it funny. He had completely forgotten about Mikasa. So had I.

No matter what happened in our world, a few basic truths about vampires remained the same. Moroi were alive; Strigoi were undead. Moroi were mortal; Strigoi were immortal. Moroi were born; Strigoi were made.

And there were two ways to make a Strigoi. Strigoi could forcibly turn humans, dhampirs, or Moroi with a single bite. Moroi tempted by the promise of immortality could become Strigoi by choice if they purposely killed another person while feeding. Doing that was considered dark and twisted, the greatest of all sins, both against the Moroi way of life and nature itself. Moroi who chose this dark path lost their ability to connect with elemental magic and other powers of the world. That was why they could no longer go into the sun.

This is what had happened to Mikasa's parents. They were Strigoi.


	5. Chapter 5: Memories

**ATTENTION** : **I do not own** **any** **of this. I can take very little credit for this, all I did was replaces names and genders and added a little bit of sass. The writing is from one of my favorite books and I'm just replacing the characters from the book with Attack on Titan characters. The book I am using is called ' Vampire Academy' by Richelle Mead.**

 **Book 1: Vampire Academy**

 **Chapter 5: Memories**

Or rather, they had been Strigoi. A regiment of guardians had hunted them down and killed them. If rumors were true, Mikasa had witnessed it all when she was very young. And although she wasn't Strigoi herself, some people thought she wasn't far off, with the way she always wore black and kept to herself.

Strigoi or not, I didn't trust her. She was a jerk, and I silently screamed at Armin to get out of there—not that my screaming did much good. Stupid one-way bond.

"What are you doing here?" Armin asked.

"Taking in the sights, of course. That chair with the tarp on it is particularly lovely this time of year. Over there, we have an old box full of the writings of the blessed and crazy St. Vladimir. And let's not forget that beautiful table with no legs in the corner."

"Whatever." Armin rolled his eyes and moved toward the door, wanting to leave, but she blocked his way.

"Well, what about you?" she taunted. "Why are you up here? Don't you have parties to go to or lives to destroy?"

Some of Armin's old spark returned. "Wow, that's hilarious. Am I like a rite of passage now? Go and see if you can piss off Armin to prove how cool you are? Some boy I don't even know yelled at me today, and now I've got to deal with you? What does it take to be left alone?"

"Oh. So that's why you're up here. For a pity party."

"This isn't a joke. I'm serious." I could tell Armin was getting angry. It was trumping his earlier distress.

She shrugged and leaned casually against the sloping wall. "So am I. I love pity parties. I wish I'd brought the hats. What do you want to mope about first? How it's going to take you a whole day to be popular and loved again? How you'll have to wait a couple weeks before Hollister can ship out some new clothes? If you spring for rush shipping, it might not be so long."

"Let me leave," he said angrily, this time pushing her aside.

"Wait," Mikasa said, as he reached the door. The sarcasm disappeared from her voice. "What…um, what was it like?"

"What was what like?" he snapped.

"Being out there. Away from the Academy."

He hesitated for a moment before answering, caught off guard by what seemed like a genuine attempt at conversation. "It was great. No one knew who I was. I was just another face. Not Moroi. Not royal. Not anything." he looked down at the floor. "Everyone here thinks they know who I am."

"Yeah. It's kind of hard to outlive your past," she said bitterly.

It occurred to Armin at that moment—and me to by default—just how hard it might be to be Mikasa. Most of the time, people treated her like she didn't exist. Like she was a ghost. They didn't talk to or about her. They just didn't notice her.

Still, she'd pissed him off, and he wasn't about to feel sorry for him.

"Wait—is this your pity party now?"

She laughed, almost approvingly. "This room has been my pity party for a year now."

"Sorry," said Armin snarkily. "I was coming here before I left. I've got a longer claim."

"Squatters' rights. Besides, I have to make sure I stay near the chapel as much as possible so people know I haven't gone Strigoi…yet." Again, the bitter tone rang out.

"I used to always see you at mass. Is that the only reason you go? To look good?" Strigoi couldn't enter holy ground. More of that sinning-against-the-world thing.

"Sure," she said. "Why else go? For the good of your soul?"

"Whatever," said Armin, who clearly had a different opinion. "I'll leave you alone then."

"Wait," she said again. She didn't seem to want him to go. "I'll make you a deal. You can hang out here too if you tell me one thing."

"What?" he glanced back at her.

She leaned forward. "Of all the rumors I heard about you today—and believe me, I heard plenty, even if no one actually told them to me—there was one that didn't come up very much. They dissected everything else: why you left, what you did out there, why you came back, the specialization, what Eren said to Marco, blah, blah, blah. And in all of that, no one, no one ever questioned that stupid story that Eren told about there being all sorts of fringe humans who let you take blood."

He looked away, and I could feel his cheeks starting to burn. "It's not stupid. Or a story."

She laughed softly. "I've lived with humans. My aunt and I stayed away after my parents…died. It's not that easy to find blood." When he didn't answer, she laughed again. "It was Eren, wasn't it? He fed you."

A renewed fear shot through both him and me. No one at school could know about that. Annie and the guardians on the scene knew, but they'd kept that knowledge to themselves.

"Well. If that's not friendship, I don't know what it is," she said.

"You can't tell anyone," he blurted out.

This was all we needed. As I'd just been reminded, feeders were vampire-bite addicts. We accepted that as part of life but still looked down on them for it. For anyone else—especially a dhampir—letting a Moroi take blood from you was almost, well, dirty. In fact, one of the kinkiest, practically pornographic things a dhampir could do was let a Moroi drink blood during sex.

Armin and I hadn't had sex, of course, but we'd both known what others would think of me feeding him.

"Don't tell anyone," Armin repeated.

She stuffed her hands in her coat pockets and sat down on one of the crates. "Who am I going to tell? Look, go grab the window seat. You can have it today and hang out for a while. If you're not still afraid of me."

He hesitated, studying her. She looked dark and surly, lips curled in a sort of I'm-such-a-rebel smirk. But she didn't look too dangerous. She didn't look Strigoi. Gingerly, Armin sat back down in the window seat, unconsciously rubbing his arms against the cold.

Mikasa watched him, and a moment later, the air warmed up considerably.

Armin met Mikasa's eyes and smiled, surprised he'd never noticed how icy blue they were before. "You specialized in fire?"

She nodded and pulled up a broken chair. "Now we have luxury accommodations."

I snapped out of the vision.

"Eren? Eren?"

Blinking, I focused on Levi's face. He was leaning toward me, his hands gripping my shoulders. I'd stopped walking; we stood in the middle of the quad separating the upper school buildings.

"Are you all right?"

"I… yeah. I was… I was with Armin…" I put a hand to my forehead. I'd never had such a long or clear experience like that. "I was in his head."

"His… head?"

"Yeah. It's part of the bond." I didn't really feel like elaborating.

"Is he all right?"

"Yeah, he's…" I hesitated. Was he all right? Mikasa Ackerman had just invited him to hang out with her. Not good. There was "coasting through the middle," and then there was turning to the dark side. But the feelings humming through our bond were no longer scared or upset. He was almost content, though still a little nervous. "He's not in danger," I finally said. I hoped.

"Can you keep going?"

The hard, stoic warrior I'd met earlier was gone—just for a moment—and he actually looked concerned. Truly concerned. Feeling his eyes on me like that made something flutter inside of me—which was stupid, of course. I had no reason to get all goofy, just because the man was too good-looking for his own good. After all, he was an antisocial god, according to Petra. One who was supposedly going to leave me in all sorts of pain.

"Yeah. I'm fine." I said and put a hand to my forehead. "Hey, are you in any chance related to Mikasa Ackerman?"

"Hmm? Oh, common mistake. No we aren't. Her parents changed their last name from Zoe to Ackerman after they married. Why?"

"Just wondering"

I went into the gym's dressing room and changed into the workout clothes someone had finally thought to give me after a day of practicing in jeans and a T-shirt. Gross. Armin hanging out with Mikasa troubled me, but I shoved that thought away for later as my muscles informed me they did not want to go through any more exercise today.

So I suggested to Levi that maybe he should let me off this time.

He snorted and chuckled. "No way"

"Look, I've technically been awake for two days. Why do we have to start this training now? Let me go to bed," I whined. "It's just one hour."

He crossed his arms and looked at me. His earlier concern was gone. He was all business now. Tough love. "How do you feel right now? After the training you've done so far?"

"I hurt like hell."

"You'll feel worse tomorrow."

"So?"

"So, better to jump in now while you still feel…not as bad."

"What kind of logic is that?" I retorted.

"Just shut up and follow me" he said and ticked his head as he led me into the weight room. He showed me the weights and reps he wanted me to do, then sprawled in a corner with a battered Western novel. Some god.

When I finished, he stood beside me and demonstrated a few cool-down stretches.

"How'd you end up as Armin's guardian?" I asked. "You weren't here a few years ago. Were you even trained at this school?"

He didn't answer right away. I got the feeling he didn't talk about himself very often. "No. I attended the one in France."

"Whoa. That's got to be the only place worse than Montana."

A glint of something—maybe amusement—sparked in his eyes, but he didn't acknowledge the joke. "After I graduated, I was a guardian for a French lord. He was killed recently." His smile dropped, his face grew dark. "They sent me here because they needed extras on campus. When the prince turned up, they assigned me to him, since I'd already be around. Not that it matters until he leaves campus."

I thought about what he'd said before. Some Strigoi killed the guy he was supposed to have been guarding? "Did this lord die on your watch?"

"No. He was with his other guardian. I was away."

He fell silent, his mind obviously somewhere else. The Moroi expected a lot from us, but they did recognize that the guardians were—more or less—only human. So, guardians got pay and time off like you'd get in any other job. Some hard-core guardians—like my mom—refused vacations, vowing never to leave their Moroi's sides. Looking at Levi now, I had a feeling he might very well turn into one of those. If he'd been away on legitimate leave, he could hardly blame himself for what happened to that guy. Still, he probably did anyway. I'd blame myself too if something happened to Armin.

"Hey," I said, suddenly wanting to cheer him up, "did you help come up with the plan to get us back? Because it was pretty good. Brute force and all that."

He arched an eyebrow curiously. Cool. I'd always wished I could do that. "You're complimenting me on that?"

"Well, it was a hell of a lot better than the last one they tried."

"Last one?"

"Yeah. In Chicago. With the pack of psi-hounds."

"This was the first time we found you. In Portland."

I sat up from my stretches and crossed my legs. "Um, I don't think I imagined psi-hounds. Who else could have sent them? They only answer to Moroi. Maybe no one told you about it."

"Maybe," he said dismissively. I could tell by his face he didn't believe that.

I returned to the novices' dorm after that. The Moroi students lived on the other side of the quad, closer to the commons. The living arrangements were partly based on convenience. Being here kept us novices closer to the gym and training grounds. But we also lived separately to accommodate the differences in Moroi and dhampir lifestyles. Their dorm had almost no windows, aside from tinted ones that dimmed sunlight. They also had a special section where feeders always stayed on hand. The novices' dorm was built in a more open way, allowing for more light.

I had my own room because there were so few novices. The room they'd given me was small and plain, with a twin bed and a desk with a computer. My few belongings had been spirited out of Portland and now sat in boxes around the room. I rummaged through them, pulling out a T-shirt to sleep in. I found a couple of pictures as I did, one of Armin and me at a football game in Portland and another taken when I'd gone on vacation with his family, a year before the accident.

I set them on my desk and booted up the computer. Someone from tech support had helpfully given me a sheet with instructions for renewing my e-mail account and setting up a password. I did both, happy to discover no one had realized that this would serve as a way for me to communicate with Armin. Too tired to write to him now, I was about to turn everything off when I noticed I already had a message. From Carla Jaeger. It was short:

I'm glad you're back. What you did was inexcusable.

"Love you too, Mom," I muttered, shutting it all down.

When I went to bed afterward, I passed out before even hitting the pillow, and just as Levi had predicted, I felt ten times worse when I woke up the next morning. Lying there in bed, I reconsidered the perks of running away. Then I remembered getting my ass kicked and figured the only way to prevent that from happening again was to go endure some more of it this morning.

My soreness made it all that much worse, but I survived the before-school practice with Levi and my subsequent classes without passing out or fainting.

At lunch, I dragged Armin away from Legout's table early and gave her an Annie-worthy lecture about Mikasa—particularly chastising him for letting her know about our blood arrangement. If that got out, it'd kill both of us socially and I didn't trust her not to tell.

Armin had other concerns.

"You were in my head again?" he exclaimed. "For that long?"

"I didn't do it on purpose," I argued. "It just happened. And that's not the point. How long did you hang out with her afterward?"

"Not that long. It was kind of…fun."

"Well, you can't do it again. If people find out you're hanging out with her, they'll crucify you." I eyed him warily. "You aren't, like, into her, are you? I thought you were gay"

He scoffed. "No. Of course not. And besides, I only dated Jean because it was expected. It's not like we ever "did" it or anything" he said and looked disgusted. Being gay was allowed, the royals didn't care, love is love; but it wasn't recommended if you were a royal. Not to mention the last of your line.

"Good. Just so long as you stay away from Mikasa. She's dangerous."

"You're overreacting. She's not going Strigoi."

"She's a bad influence."

He laughed. "You think I'm in danger of going Strigoi?"

He didn't wait for my answer, instead pushing ahead to open the door to our science class. Standing there, I uneasily replayed his words and then followed a moment later. When I did, I got to see royal power in action. A few guys—with giggling, watching girls—were messing with a gangly-looking Moroi. I didn't know him very well, but I knew he was poor and certainly not royal. A couple of his tormentors were air-magic users, and they'd blown the papers off his desk and were pushing them around the room on currents of air while the guy tried to catch them.

My instincts urged me to do something, maybe go smack one of the air users. But I couldn't pick a fight with everyone who annoyed me, and certainly not a group of royals—especially when Armin needed to stay off their radar. So I could only give them a look of disgust as I walked to my desk. As I did, a hand caught my arm. Thomas.

"Hey," I said jokingly. Fortunately, he didn't appear to be participating in the torture session. "Hands off the merchandise."

He flashed me a smile but kept his hand on me. "Eren, tell Mina about the time you started the fight in Mr. Hoover's class."

I cocked my head toward him, giving him a playful smile. "I started a lot of fights in his class."

"The one with the hermit crab. And the gerbil."

I laughed, recalling it. "Oh yeah. It was a hamster, I think. I just dropped it into the crab's tank, and they were both worked up from being so close to me, so they went at it."

Mina, a girl sitting nearby whom I didn't really know, chuckled too. She'd transferred last year, apparently, and hadn't heard of this. "Who won?"

I looked at Thomas quizzically. "I don't remember. Do you?"

"No. I just remember Hoover freaking out." He turned toward Mina. "Man, you should have seen this messed-up teacher we used to have. Used to think people were after him and would go off on stuff that didn't make any sense. He was nuts. Used to wander campus while everyone was asleep."

I smiled tightly, like I thought it was funny. Instead, I thought back to Mr. Hoover again, surprised to be thinking about him for the second time in two days. Thomas was right—he had wandered campus a lot when he still worked here. It was pretty creepy. I'd run into him once—unexpectedly.

I'd been climbing out of my dorm window to go hang out with some people. It was after hours, and we were all supposed to be in our rooms, fast asleep. Such escape tactics were a regular practice for me. I was good at them.

But I fell that time. I had a second-floor room, and I lost my grip about halfway down. Sensing the ground rush up toward me, I tried desperately to grab hold of something and slow my fall. The building's rough stone tore into my skin, causing cuts I was too preoccupied to feel. I slammed into the grassy earth, back first, getting the wind knocked out of me.

"Bad form, Eren. You should be more careful. Your instructors would be disappointed."

Peering through the tangle of my hair, I saw Mr. Hoover looking down at me, a bemused look on his face. Pain, in the meantime, shot through every part of my body.

Ignoring it as best I could, I clambered to my feet. Being in class with Crazy Hoover while surrounded by other students was one thing. Standing outside alone with him was an entirely different matter. He always had an eerie, distracted gleam in his eye that made my skin break out in goose bumps.

There was also now a high likelihood he'd drag me off to Annie for a detention. Scarier still.

Instead, he just smiled and reached for my hands. I flinched but let him take them. He tsked when he saw the scrapes. Tightening his grip on them, he frowned slightly. A tingle burned my skin, laced with a sort of pleasant buzz, and then the wounds closed up. I had a brief sense of dizziness. My temperature spiked. The blood disappeared, as did the pain in my hip and leg.

Gasping, I jerked my hands away. I'd seen a lot of Moroi magic, but never anything like that.

"What…what did you do?"

He gave me that weird smile again. "Go back to your dorm, Eren. There are bad things out here. You never know what's following you."

I was still staring at my hands. "But…"

I looked back up at him and for the first time noticed scars on the sides of his forehead. Like nails had dug into them. He winked. "I won't tell on you if you don't tell on me."

I jumped back to the present, unsettled by the memory of that bizarre night. Thomas, in the meantime, was telling me about a party.

"You've got to slip your leash tonight. We're going up to that spot in the woods around eight thirty. Franz got some weed."

I sighed wistfully, regret replacing the chill I'd felt over the memory of Mr. Hoover. "Can't slip that leash. I'm with my French jailer."

He let go of my arm, looking disappointed, and ran a hand through his bronze-colored hair. Yeah. Not being able to hang out with him was a damned shame. I really would have to fix that someday. "Can't you ever get off for good behavior?" he joked.

I gave him what I hoped was a seductive smile as I found my seat. "Sure," I called over my shoulder. "If I was ever good."


	6. Chapter 6: Shadow Kissed

**ATTENTION** : **I do not own** **any** **of this. I can take very little credit for this, all I did was replaces names and genders and added a little bit of sass. The writing is from one of my favorite books and I'm just replacing the characters from the book with Attack on Titan characters. The book I am using is called ' Vampire Academy' by Richelle Mead.**

 **Book 1: Vampire Academy**

 **Chapter 5: Shadow Kissed**

As much as Armin and Mikasa's meeting bothered me, it gave me an idea the next day.

"Hey, Annie—er, Ms. Annie." I stood in the doorway of her office, not having bothered to make an appointment. She raised her eyes from some paperwork, clearly annoyed to see me.

"Yes, Jaeger?"

"Does my house arrest mean I can't go to church?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You said that whenever I'm not in class or practice, I have to stay in the dorm. But what about church on Sundays? I don't think it's really fair to keep me away from my religious…um, needs." Or deprive me of another chance—no matter how short and boring—to hang out with Armin.

She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I wasn't aware you had any religious needs."

"I found Jesus while I was gone."

"Isn't your mother an atheist?" she asked skeptically.

"And my dad's probably Muslim. But I've moved on to my own path. You shouldn't keep me from it."

She made a noise that sort of sounded like a snicker. "No, Jaeger, I should not. Very well. You may attend services on Sundays."

The victory was short-lived, however, because church was every bit as lame as I remembered when I attended a few days later. I did get to sit next to Armin, though, which made me feel like I was getting away with something. Mostly I just people-watched. Church was optional for students, but with so many Eastern European families, a lot of students were Eastern Orthodox Christians and attended either because they believed or because their parents made them.

Mikasa sat on the opposite side of the aisle, pretending to be just as holy as she'd said. As much as I didn't like her, her fake faith still made me smile. Levi sat in the back, face lined with shadows, and, like me, didn't take communion. As thoughtful as he looked, I wondered if he even listened to the service. I tuned in and out.

"Following God's path is never easy," the priest was saying. "Even St. Farlan, this school's own patron saint, had a difficult time. He was so filled with spirit that people often flocked around him, enthralled just to listen and be in his presence. So great was his spirit, the old texts say, that he could heal the sick. Yet despite these gifts, many did not respect him. They mocked him, claiming he was misguided and confused."

Which was a nice way of saying Farlan was insane. Everyone knew it. He was one of a handful of Moroi saints, so the priest liked to talk about him a lot. I'd heard all about him, many times over, before we left. Great. It looked like I had an eternity of Sundays to hear his story over and over again.

"…and so it was with shadow-kissed Isabel."

I jerked my head up. I had no idea what the priest was talking about now, because I hadn't been listening for some time. But those words burned into me. Shadow-kissed. It had been a while since I heard them, but I'd never forgotten them. I waited, hoping he'd continue, but he'd already moved on to the next part of the service. The sermon was over.

Church concluded, and as Armin turned to go, I shook my head at him. "Wait for me. I'll be right there."

I pushed my way through the crowd, up to the front, where the priest was speaking with a few people. I waited impatiently while he finished. Legout was there, asking him about volunteer work she could do. Ugh. When she finished, she left, greeting me as she passed.

The priest raised his eyebrows when he saw me. "Hello, Eren. It's nice to see you again."

"Yeah…you too," I said. "I heard you talking about Isabel. About how she was 'shadow-kissed.' What does that mean?"

He frowned. "I'm not entirely sure. She lived a very long time ago. It was often common to refer to people by titles that reflected some of their traits. It might have been given to make her sound fierce."

I tried to hide my disappointment. "Oh. So who was she?"

This time his frown was disapproving rather than thoughtful. "I mentioned it a number of times."

"Oh. I must have, um, missed that."

His disapproval grew, and he turned around. "Wait just a moment."

He disappeared through the door near the altar, the one Armin had taken to the attic. I considered fleeing but thought God might strike me down for that. Less than a minute later, the priest returned with a book. He handed it to me. Moroi Saints.

"You can learn about her in here. The next time I see you, I'd like to hear what you've learned."

I scowled as I walked away. Great. Homework from the priest.

In the chapel's entry way, I found Armin talking to Jean. He smiled as he spoke, and the feelings coming off him were happy, though certainly not infatuated.

"You're kidding," Armin exclaimed.

Jean shook his head. "Nope."

Seeing me stroll over, he turned to me. "Eren, you're never going to believe this. You know Rico Brzenska? And Ian? Their guardian wants to resign. And marry another guardian."

Now this was exciting gossip. A scandal, actually. "Seriously? Are they, like, going to run off together?"

He nodded. "They're getting a house. Going to get jobs with humans, I guess."

I glanced at Jean, who had suddenly turned shy with me there. "How are Rico and Ian dealing with that?"

"Okay. Embarrassed. They think it's stupid." Then he realized who he was speaking to. "Oh. I didn't mean—"

"Whatever." I gave him a tight smile. "It is stupid."

Wow. I was stunned. The rebellious part me of loved any story where people "fought the system." Only, in this case, they were fighting my system, the one I'd been trained to believe in my entire life.

Dhampirs and Moroi had a strange arrangement. Dhampirs had originally been born from Moroi mixing with humans. Unfortunately, dhampirs couldn't reproduce with each other—or with humans. It was a weird genetic thing. Mules were the same way, I'd been told, and though that wasn't a comparison I really liked hearing. Dhampirs and full Moroi could have children together, and, through another genetic oddity, their kids came out as standard dhampirs, with half human genes, half vampire genes.

With Moroi being the only ones with whom dhampirs could reproduce, we had to stay close to them and intermingle with them. Likewise, it became important to us that the Moroi simply survived. Without them, we were done. And with the way Strigoi loved picking off Moroi, their survival became a legitimate concern for us.

That was how the guardian system developed. Dhampirs couldn't work magic, but we made great warriors. We'd inherited enhanced senses and reflexes from our vampire genes and better strength and endurance from our human genes. We also weren't limited by a need for blood or trouble with sunlight. Sure, we weren't as powerful as the Strigoi, but we trained hard, and guardians did a kick-ass job at keeping Moroi safe. Most dhampirs felt it was worth risking their own lives to make sure our kind could still keep having children.

Since Moroi usually wanted to have and raise Moroi children, you didn't find a lot of long-term Moroi-dhampir romances. You especially didn't find a lot of Moroi women hooking up with dhampir guys. But plenty of young Moroi men liked fooling around with dhampir women, although those guys usually went on to marry Moroi women. That left a lot of single dhampir mothers, but we were tough and could handle it.

However, many dhampir mothers chose not to become guardians in order to raise their children. These women sometimes worked "regular" jobs with Moroi or humans; some of them lived together in communities. These communities had a bad reputation. I don't know how much of it was true, but rumors said Moroi men visited all the time for sex, and that some dhampir women let them drink blood while doing it. Blood whores.

Regardless, almost all guardians were men, which meant there were a lot more Moroi than guardians. Most dhampir guys accepted that they wouldn't have kids. They knew it was their job to protect Moroi while their sisters and cousins had babies.

Some dhampir women, like my mother, still felt it was their duty to become guardians—even if it meant not raising their own kids. After I'd been born, she'd handed me over to be raised by Moroi. Moroi and dhampirs start school pretty young, and the Academy had essentially taken over as my parent by the time I was four.

Between her example and my life at the Academy, I believed wholeheartedly that it was a dhampir's job to protect Moroi. It was part of our heritage, and it was the only way we'd keep going. It was that simple.

And that was what made what the Brzenska's guardian had done so shocking. He'd abandoned his Moroi and run off with another guardian, which meant she'd abandoned her Moroi. They couldn't even have children together, and now two families were unprotected. What was the point? No one cared if teenage dhampirs dated or if adult dhampirs had flings. But a long-term relationship? Particularly one that involved them running away? A complete waste. And a disgrace.

After a little more speculation on the Brzenskas, Armin and I left Jean. As we stepped outside, I heard a funny shifting sound and then something sliding. Too late, I realized what was happening, just as a pile of slush slid off the chapel's roof and onto us. It was early October, and we'd had early snow last night that had started melting almost immediately. As a result, the stuff that fell on us was very wet and very cold.

Armin took the brunt of it, but I still yelped as icy water landed on my hair and neck. A few others squealed nearby too, having caught the edge of the mini-avalanche.

"You okay?" I asked him. His coat was drenched, and his platinum hair clung to the sides of his face.

"Y-yeah," he said through chattering teeth.

I pulled off my coat and handed it to him. It had a slick surface and had repelled most of the water. "Take yours off."

"But you'll be—"

"Take this."

He did, and as he slipped on my coat, I finally tuned into the laughter that always follows these situations. I avoided the eyes, instead focusing on holding Armin's wet jacket while he changed.

"Wish you hadn't been wearing a coat, Eren," said Hannesan unusually bulky and plump Moroi. I hated him. "That shirt would have looked good wet."

"That shirt's so ugly it should be burned. Did you get that from a homeless person?"

I glanced up as Marco walked over and looped his arm through Jean's. His little bangs were arranged perfectly. Jean had been a few steps behind us but had miraculously avoided being nailed by the slush. Seeing how smug he looked, I decided there'd been no miracles involved.

"I suppose you want to offer to burn it, huh?" I asked, refusing to let him know how much that insult bugged me. I knew perfectly well my fashion sense had slipped over the last two years. "Oh, wait—fire isn't your element, is it? You work with water. What a coincidence that a bunch just fell on us."

Marco looked as if he'd been insulted, but the gleam in his eyes showed that he was enjoying this way too much to be an innocent bystander. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing to me. But Ms. Annie will probably have something to say when she finds out you used magic against another student."

"That wasn't an attack," he scoffed. "And it wasn't me. It was an act of God."

A few others laughed, much to his delight. In my imagination, I responded with, so is this, and then slammed him into the side of the church. In real life, Armin simply nudged me and said, "Let's go."

He and I walked off toward our respective dorms, leaving behind laughter and jokes about our wet states and how Armin wouldn't know anything about specialization. Inside, I seethed. I had to do something about Marco, I realized. In addition to the general irritation of Marco's bitchiness, I didn't want Armin to have to deal with any more stress than he had to. We'd been okay this first week, and I wanted to keep it that way.

"You know," I said, "I'm thinking more and more that you stealing Jean back is a good thing. It'll teach Bitch Doll a lesson. I bet it'd be easy, too. He's still crazy about you."

"I don't want to teach anyone a lesson," said Armin. "And I'm not crazy about him."

"Come on, Marco picks fights and talks about us behind our backs. He accused me of getting jeans from the Salvation Army yesterday."

"Your jeans are from the Salvation Army."

"Well, yeah," I snorted, "but he has no right making fun of them when he's wearing stuff from Target."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with Target. I like Target."

"So do I. That's not the point. He's trying to pass his stuff off like its freaking Stella McCartney."

"And that's a crime?"

I affected a solemn face. "Absolutely. You've gotta take revenge."

"I told you, I'm not interested in revenge." Armin cut me a sidelong look. "And you shouldn't be either."

I smiled as innocently as I could, and when we parted ways, I felt relieved again that he couldn't read my thoughts.

"So when's the big catfight going to happen?"

Petra was waiting for me outside our dorm after I'd parted ways with Armin. She looked lazy and cute, leaning against the wall with crossed arms as she watched me.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

She unfolded herself and walked with me into the building, handing me her coat, since I'd let Armin go off with my dry one. "I saw you guys sparring outside the chapel. Have you no respect for the house of God?"

I snorted. "You've got about as much respect for it as I do, you heathen. You didn't even go. Besides, as you said, we were outside."

"And you still didn't answer the question."

I just grinned and slipped on her coat.

We stood in the common area of our dorm, a well-supervised lounge and study area where male and female students could mingle, along with Moroi guests. Being Sunday, it was pretty crowded with those cramming for last-minute assignments due tomorrow. Spying a small, empty table, I grabbed Petra's arm and pulled her toward it.

"Aren't you supposed to go straight to your room?"

I hunkered down in my seat, glancing around warily. "There are so many people here today, it'll take them a while to notice me. God, I'm so sick of being locked away. And it's only been a week."

"I'm sick of it too. We missed you last night. A bunch of us went and shot pool in the rec room. Hitch was on fire."

I groaned. "Don't tell me that. I don't want to hear about your glamorous social life."

"All right." She propped her elbow up on the table and rested her chin in her hand. "Then tell me about Marco. You're just going to turn around and punch him one day, aren't you? I think I remember you doing that at least ten times with people that pissed you off."

"I'm a new, reformed Eren," I said, doing my best impression of demure. Which wasn't very good. She emitted a choking sort of laugh. "Besides, if I do that, I'll have broken my probation with Annie. Gotta walk the straight and narrow."

"In other words, find some way to get back at Marco that you won't get in trouble for."

I felt a smile tug at the corners of my lips. "You know what I like about you, Petra? You think just like I do."

"Frightening concept," she replied drily. "So tell me what you think of this: I might know something about him, but I probably shouldn't tell you…"

I leaned forward. "Oh, you already tipped me off. You've got to tell me now."

"It'd be wrong," she teased. "How do I know you'd use this knowledge for good instead of evil?"

I batted my eyelashes. "Can you resist this face?"

She took a moment to study me. "No. I can't, actually. Okay, here you go: Marco isn't royal."

I slouched back in my chair. "No kidding. I already knew that. I've known who's royal since I was two."

"Yeah, but there's more than just that. His parents work for one of the Langnar lords." I waved my hand impatiently. A lot of Moroi worked out in the human world, but Moroi society had plenty of jobs for its own kind too. Someone had to fill them. "Cleaning stuff. Practically servants. His dad cuts grass, and his mom's a maid."

I actually had a healthy respect for anyone who pulled a full day's work, regardless of the job. People everywhere had to do crappy stuff to make a living. But, much like with Target, it became another matter altogether when someone was trying to pass herself off as something else. And in the week that I'd been here, I'd picked up on how desperately Marco wanted to fit in with the school elite.

"No one knows," I said thoughtfully.

"And he doesn't want them to. You know how the royals are." She paused. "Well, except for Armin, of course. They'd give Marco a hard time over it."

"How do you know all this?"

"My uncle's a guardian for the Langnars."

"And you've just been sitting on this secret, huh?"

"Until you broke me. So which path will you choose: good or evil?"

"I think I'll give him a grace—"

"Jaeger, you know you aren't supposed to be here."

One of the dorm matrons stood over us, disapproval all over their face.

I hadn't been joking when I said Petra thought like me. She could bullshit as well as I could. "We have a group project to do for our humanities class. How are we supposed to do it if Eren is in isolation?"

The matron narrowed their eyes. "You don't look like you're doing work."

I slid over the priest's book and opened it at random. I'd placed it on the table when we sat down. "We're, um, working on this."

They still looked suspicious. "One hour. I'll give you one more hour down here, and I'd better actually see you working."

"Yes, ma'am," said Petra straight-faced. "Absolutely."

They wandered off, still eyeing us. "My hero," I declared.

She pointed at the book. "What is this?"

"Something the priest gave me. I had a question about the service."

She stared at me, astonished.

"Oh, stop it and look interested." I skimmed the index. "I'm trying to find some woman named Isabel."

Petra slid her chair over so that she was sitting right beside me. "All right. Let's 'study.' "

I found a page number, and it took me to the section on St. Farlan, not surprisingly. We read through the chapter, scanning for Isabel's name. When we found it, the author didn't have much to say about her. He did include an excerpt written by some guy who had apparently lived at the same time as St. Farlan:

And with Farlan always is Isabel, the daughter of Magnolia. Their love is as chaste and pure as that of brother and sister, and many times has she defended him from Strigoi who would seek to destroy him and his holiness. Likewise, it is she who comforts him when the spirit becomes too much to bear, and Satan's darkness tries to smother him and weaken his own health and body. This too she defends against, for they have been bound together ever since he saved her life as a child. It is a sign of God's love that He has sent the blessed Farlan a guardian such as her, one who is shadow-kissed and always knows what is in his heart and mind.

"There you go," Petra said. "She was his guardian."

"It doesn't say what 'shadow-kissed' means."

"Probably doesn't mean anything."

Something in me didn't believe that. I read it again, trying to make sense of the old-fashioned language. Petra watched me curiously, looking like she very much wanted to help.

"Maybe they were hooking up," she suggested.

I laughed. "He was a saint."

"So? Saints probably like sex too. That 'brother and sister' stuff is probably a cover." She pointed to one of the lines. "See? They were 'bound' together." She winked. "It's code."

Bound. It was a weird word choice, but that didn't necessarily mean Isabel and Farlan were ripping each other's clothes off.

"I don't think so. They're just close. Guys and girls can just be friends." I said it pointedly, and she gave me a dry look.

"Yeah? We're friends, and I don't know what's in your 'heart and mind.'" Petra put on a fake philosopher's look. "Of course, some might argue that one can never know what's in the heart of an Eren—"

"Oh, shut up," I laughed, punching her in the arm.

I stopped laughing and looked back down at the book.

Bound together and always knows what is in his heart and mind.

They had a bond, I realized. I would have bet everything I owned—which wasn't much—on it. The revelation was astonishing. There were lots of vague stories and myths about how guardians and Moroi 'used to have bonds.' But this was the first I'd ever heard of anyone specific that it had happened to.

Petra had noticed my startled reaction. "You okay? You look kind of weird."

I shrugged it off. "Yeah. Fine."


	7. Chapter 7: Training

**ATTENTION: I do not own any of this. I can take very little credit for this, all I did was replaces names and genders and added a little bit of sass. The writing is from one of my favorite books and I'm just replacing the characters from the book with Attack on Titan characters. The book I am using is called 'Vampire Academy' by Richelle Mead.**

 **Book 1: Vampire Academy**

 **Chapter 7: Training**

A couple weeks passed after that, and I soon forgot about the Isabel thing as life at the Academy wrapped around me. The shock of our return had worn off a little, and we began to fall into a semi-comfortable routine. My days revolved around church, lunch with Armin, and whatever sort of social life I could scrape together outside of that. Denied any real free time, I didn't have too hard a time staying out of the spotlight, although I did manage to steal a little attention here and there, despite my noble speech to Armin about 'coasting through the middle.' I couldn't help it. I liked flirting, I liked groups, and I liked making smartass comments in class.

Armin's new, incognito role attracted attention simply because it was so different than before we'd left, back when he'd been so active with the royals. Most people soon let that go, accepting that the Arlet prince was fading off the social radar and content to run with Legout and her group. Legout's rambling still made me want to beat my head against a wall sometimes, but she was really nice—nicer than almost any of the other royals—and I enjoyed hanging around her most of the time.

And, just as Annie had warned, I was indeed training and working out all the time. But as more time passed, my body stopped hating me. My muscles grew tougher, and my stamina increased. I still got my ass kicked in practice but not quite as badly as I used to, which was something. The biggest toll now seemed to be on my skin. Being outside in the cold so much was chapping my face, and only Armin's constant supply of skin-care lotions kept me from aging before my time. He couldn't do much for the blisters on my hands and feet.

A routine also developed with Levi and me. Petra had been right about him being antisocial. Levi didn't hang out much with the other guardians, though it was clear they all respected him. And the more I worked with him, the more I respected him too, though I didn't really understand his training methods. They didn't seem very badass. We always started by stretching in the gym, and lately he'd been sending me outside to run, braving the increasingly cold Montana autumn.

Three weeks after my return to the Academy, I walked into the gym before school one day and found him sprawled on a mat, reading a Louis L'Amour book. Someone had brought in a portable CD player, and while that cheered me up at first, the song coming from it did not: "When Doves Cry" by Prince. It was embarrassing to know the title, but one of our former housemates had been obsessed with the '80s.

"Whoa, Levi," I said, tossing my bag on the floor. "I realize this is actually a current hit in Eastern Europe right now, but do you think we could maybe listen to something that wasn't recorded before I was born?"

Only his eyes flicked toward me; the rest of his posture remained the same. "What does it matter to you? I'm the one who's going to be listening to it. You'll be outside running."

I made a face as I set my foot up on one of the bars and stretched my hamstrings. All things considered, Levi had a good-natured tolerance for my snarkiness. So long as I didn't slack in my training, he didn't mind my running commentary.

"Hey," I asked, moving on to the next set of stretches, "what's with all the running, anyway? I mean, I realize the importance of stamina and all that, but shouldn't I be moving on to something with a little hitting? They're still killing me in group practice."

"Maybe you should hit harder," he replied drily.

"I'm serious."

"Hard to tell the difference." He set the book down but didn't move from his sprawl. "My job is to get you ready to defend the prince and fight dark creatures, right?"

"Yup."

"So tell me this: suppose you manage to kidnap him again and take him off to the mall. While you're there, a Strigoi comes at you. What will you do?"

"Depends on what store we're in."

He looked at me.

"Fine. I'll stab him with a silver stake."

Levi sat up now, crossing his long legs for his small build in one fluid motion. I still couldn't figure out how someone so short could be so graceful. "Oh?" He raised his thin, dark eyebrows. "Do you have a silver stake? Do you even know how to use one?"

I dragged my eyes away from his body and scowled. Made with elemental magic, silver stakes were a guardian's deadliest weapon. Stabbing a Strigoi through the heart with one meant instant death. The blades were also lethal to Moroi, so they weren't given out lightly to novices. My classmates had just started learning how to use them. I'd trained with a gun before, but no one would let me near a stake yet. Fortunately, there were two other ways to kill a Strigoi.

"Okay. I'll cut his head off."

"Ignoring the fact that you don't have a weapon to do that, how will you compensate for the fact that he may be a foot taller than you?"

I straightened up from touching my toes, annoyed. "Fine, then I'll set him on fire."

"Again, with what?"

"All right, I give up. You've already got the answer. You're just messing with me. I'm at the mall and I see a Strigoi. What do I do?"

He looked at me and didn't blink. "You run."

I repressed the urge to throw something at him. When I finished my stretches, he told me he'd run with me. That was a first. Maybe running would give me some insight into his killer reputation.

We set out into the chilly October evening. Being back on a vampiric schedule still felt weird to me. With school about to start in an hour, I expected the sun to be coming up, not down. But it was sinking on the western horizon, lighting up the snow-capped mountains with an orange glow. It didn't really warm things up, and I soon felt the cold pierce my lungs as my need for oxygen deepened. We didn't speak. He changed pace to match mine, so we stayed together.

Something about that bothered me; I suddenly very much wanted his approval. So I picked up my own pace, working my lungs and muscles harder. Twelve laps around the track made three miles; we had nine more to go.

When we reached the third-to-last loop, a couple of other novices passed by, preparing to go to the group practice I'd soon be at as well. Seeing me, Petra cheered. "Good form, Eren!"

I smiled and waved back.

"You're slowing down," Levi snapped, jerking my gaze from the others. The harshness in his voice startled me. "Is this why your times aren't getting any faster? You're easily distracted?"

Embarrassed, I increased my speed once more, despite the fact that my body started screaming obscenities at me. We finished the twelve laps, and when he checked, he found we'd shaved two minutes off my best time.

"Not bad, huh?" I crowed when we headed back inside for cool-down stretches. "Looks like I could get as far as the Limited before the Strigoi got me at the mall. Not sure how Armin would do."

"If he was with you, he'd be okay."

I looked up in surprise. It was the first real compliment he'd paid me since I started training with him. His grey eyes watched me, both approving and amused.

And that's when it happened.

I felt like someone had shot me. Sharp and biting, terror exploded in my body and in my head. Small razors of pain. My vision blurred, and for a moment, I wasn't standing there. I was running down a flight of stairs, scared and desperate, needing to get out of there, needing to find…me.

My vision cleared, leaving me back on the track and out of Armin's head. Without a word to Levi, I tore off, running as fast as I could toward the Moroi dorm. It didn't matter that I'd just put my legs through a mini-marathon. They ran hard and fast, like they were shiny and new. Distantly, I was aware of Levi catching up to me, asking me what was wrong. But I couldn't answer him. I had one task and one alone: get to the dorm.

Its looming, ivy-covered form was just coming into view when Armin met up with us, his face streaked with tears. I came to a jarring stop, my lungs ready to burst.

"What's wrong? What happened?" I demanded, clutching his arms, forcing him to look into my eyes.

But he couldn't answer. He just flung his arms around me, sobbing into my chest. I held him there, stroking his sleek, silky hair while I told him it was going to be all right—whatever 'it' was. And honestly, I didn't care what it was just then. He was here, and he was safe, which was all that mattered. Levi hovered over us, alert and ready for any threat, his body coiled to attack. I felt safe with him beside us.

A half hour later, we were crammed inside Armin's dorm room with three other guardians, Ms. Annie, and the hall matron. This was the first time I'd seen Armin's room. Legout had indeed managed to get him as a roommate, and the two sides of the room were a study in contrasts. Legout's looked lived in, with pictures on the wall and a frilly bedspread that wasn't dorm-issue. Armin had as few possessions as I did, making him half noticeably bare. He did have one picture taped to the wall, a picture taken from last Halloween, when we'd dressed up like the standard vampires, included with fake fangs and red and black clothing. Karma, really, because the Strigoi are basically the standard vampires. Seeing that picture and remembering how things used to be made a dull pain form in my chest.

With all the excitement, no one seemed to remember that I wasn't supposed to be in there. Outside in the hall, other Moroi crowded together, trying to figure out what was going on. Legout pushed her way through them, wondering what the commotion in her room was. When she discovered it, she came to a screeching halt.

Shock and disgust showed on almost everyone's faces as we stared at Armin's bed. There was a fox on the pillow. Its coat was reddish-orange, tinged in white. It looked so soft and cuddly that it could have been a pet, perhaps a cat, something you'd hold in your arms and snuggle with.

Aside from the fact that its throat had been slit.

The inside of the throat looked pink and jellylike. Blood stained that soft coat and had run down onto the yellow bedspread, forming a dark pool that spread across the fabric. The fox's eyes stared upward, glazed, over with a sort of shocked look about them, like the fox couldn't believe this was happening.

Nausea built up in my stomach, but I forced myself to keep looking. I couldn't afford to be squeamish. I'd be killing Strigoi someday. If I couldn't handle a fox, I'd never survive major kills.

What had happened to the fox was sick and twisted, obviously done by someone too fucked up for words. Armin stared at it, his face death-pale, and took a few steps toward it, hand involuntarily reaching out. This gross act hit him hard, I knew, digging at his love of animals. He loved them, they loved him. While on our own, he'd often begged me for a pet, but I'd always refused and reminded him we couldn't take care of one when we might have to flee at a moment's notice. Plus, they hated me. So he'd contented himself with helping and patching up strays he found and making friends with other people's pets, like Oscar the cat.

He couldn't patch this fox up, though. There was no coming back for it, but I saw in his face he wanted to help it, like he helped everything. I took his hand and steered her away, suddenly recalling a conversation from two years ago.

 _"What is that? Is it a crow?"_

 _"Too big. It's a raven."_

 _"Is it dead?"_

 _"Yeah. Definitely dead. Don't touch it."_

 _He hadn't listened to me back then. I hoped he would now._

"It was still alive when I got back," Armin whispered to me, clutching my arm. "Barely. Oh God, it was twitching. It must have suffered so much."

I felt bile rise in my throat now. Under no circumstances would I throw up. "Did you—?"

"No. I wanted to… I started to…"

"Then forget about it," I said sharply. "It's stupid. Somebody's stupid joke. They'll clean it up. Probably even give you a new room if you want."

He turned to me, eyes almost wild. "Eren… do you remember… that one time…"

"Stop it," I said. "Forget about it. This isn't the same thing."

"What if someone saw? What if someone knows…?"

I tightened my grip on his arm, digging my nails in to get his attention. He flinched. "No. It's not the same. It has nothing to do with that. Do you hear me?" I could feel both Legout's and Levi's eyes on us. "It's going to be okay. Everything's going to be okay."

Not looking like he believed me at all, Armin nodded.

"Get this cleaned up," Annie snapped to the matron. "And find out if anyone saw anything."

Someone finally realized I was there and ordered Levi to take me away, no matter how much I begged them to let me stay with Armin. He walked me back to the novices' dorm. He didn't speak until we were almost there. "You know something. Something about what happened. Is this what you meant when you told Headmistress Annie that Armin was in danger?"

"I don't know anything. It's just some sick joke."

"Do you have any idea who'd do it? Or why?"

I considered this. Before we'd left, it could have been any number of people. That was the way it was when you were popular. People loved you, people hated you. But now? Armin had faded off to a certain extent. The only person who really and truly despised him was Marco, but Marco seemed to fight him battles with words, not actions. And even if he did decide to do something more aggressive, why do this? He didn't seem like the type. There were a million other ways to get back at a person. "No," I told him. "No clue."

"Eren, if you know something, tell me. We're on the same side. We both want to protect him. This is serious."

I spun around, taking my anger over the fox out on him. "Yeah, it is serious. It's all serious. And you have me doing laps every day when I should be learning to fight and defend him! If you want to help him, then teach me something! Teach me how to fight. I already know how to run away."

I didn't realize until that moment how badly I did want to learn, how I wanted to prove myself to him, to Armin, and to everyone else. The fox incident had made me feel powerless, and I didn't like that. I wanted to do something, anything.

Levi watched my outburst calmly, with no change in his expression; as usual. When I finished, he simply beckoned me forward like I hadn't said anything. "Come on. You're late for practice."


End file.
